The Wrong Door
by Lucky Th13rteen
Summary: When one door closes so does another one open. At least thats what Ginny is hoping will happen. While the rest of the Wizarding world is all too eager to place the blame for Blaise's murder on her shoulders, Ginny knows her time to prove them wrong is running out. With her options diminishing by the minute there is only one person left for her to turn to to clear her name. B/G, D/G
1. Questions Remain

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.  
**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.  
**

**.**

**Chapter One – Questions Remain**

Blaise has always been a free spirit. Even when we were at Hogwarts, during those lengthy and dark days of the war, he remained a constant source of positivity and lighthearted fun. He lifted everyone's mood just by walking into a room and cracking a well placed joke about the somber atmosphere. Even some of the Gryffindors allowed themselves to smile or laugh with the easy going Slytherin.

When the war was over and he was assumed to be in league with the Death Eaters because of his deceased father's shady background, Blaise retained a constant smile and an upbeat attitude that he would be acquitted of all charges. People wrote horrible things about him in the Daily Prophet and tore his reputation to shreds with rumors of illegal tradings and consistent allegations of paying for prostitutes and escorts. Hardly anyone stood by him as every day a new set of lies were spread across the front page. All of his Slytherin schoolmates abandoned him in fear that they too would be pulled into a legal storm of false allegations and absurd accusations.

But Blaise held his head high and plowed through the trial as if it was a boring class that he was required to attend, his lawyers sweeping the evidence into the rubbish bin as if flicking off a fly. And at the tender age of nineteen, just two years shy of the war's anniversary, Blaise Zabini was found innocent on all counts and charges of murder, conspiracy, and tyranny.

That was all long before I knew him though.

By the time he and I became acquaintances, then close friends - then something more, Blaise had matured and grown up. The Wizengamot proceedings had hardened him in subtle ways that were only nurtured as the years passed and he came into his own as an adult. His childish antics and constant tomfoolery remained but soon enough the business persona that he had created after the trial took full control of his life and he became a workaholic of epic proportions.

I have never pitied him for the role he was forced to take on in order to dodge the public spotlight - the duties he shouldered himself to keep the rumors from swirling and the reporters off his back. Blaise has always had a way about himself - an air of bravado and masculine confidence - that speaks about his young maturity and the depth of his character. There have been many, many nights that I have fallen asleep in his arms as he whispers an exotic story from his childhood in my ear, an outrageous tale of a lavish vacation courteous of one of his mother's husbands. But there have been other nights when I am the one holding him as he darkly recounts the few memories of his father he has, snippets of occurrences and situations that an innocent child should not know of.

His father mysteriously died when Blaise was six years old, leaving the young boy to care for his grieving mother. But Lucia didn't take long to bounce back and since then she was had seven husbands. Seven different men in twenty years and Blaise has not had an agreeable thing to say about any of them. Throughout that time he was forced to grow up and look after his flighty mother, arranging his own trip to Diagon Alley when he was preparing for Hogwarts and even planning his own birthday parties some years.

Blaise has never spoken ill of Lucia though and for that I admire him. Many evenings we have returned to our London brownstone and I have cursed that woman up one side and down the other. She infuriates me to no end, doing her best to get under my skin but I know it is only because she sees how happy I make her son. Despite the war and the humbling she should have received, Lucia still raises her nose at the mere mention of her only child dating a Weasley. At any turn, to any person who asks about Blaise and how he is doing, she points out that we only met because I was working for him.

She claims that Blaise must have wanted to help the less fortunate after everything he had been through and that I must have bewitched him somehow in the process. Though he would never speak disrespectfully to her, Blaise is always quick to correct Lucia by saying that he was the one who put me under his spell.

The first time he blushingly admitted that he had had a crush on me back at Hogwarts, I was floored. Most of the times that I had seen or interacted with Blaise had been when he was casually hanging back behind Draco Malfoy as the ferret taunted me. I had hardly thought that I had garnered his attention when I was swearing like a sailor and cursing Malfoy's name to all hell but Blaise has repeatedly told me since then that my fiery spirit is what he was first attracted to, even at twelve years old.

It was sheer fate that I even happened to see the job opening in the Daily Prophet. I had been living at the Burrow after Harry had dumped me four months prior, slightly depressed and in dire need of some motivation to get away from my mother's constant harping about me doing something - _anything _- to get Harry to take me back. She had finally driven me so crazy that I got up one morning and opened the paper to the help wanted ads. Anything would work for me as long as I was making money and able to afford my own apartment.

The first day none of my Floo inquiries were returned with positive answers and I became frustrated. I had spent five years traveling with Harry and following his every move across Britain, not once considering what I wanted to do. During my Hogwarts years I had fantasized about playing professional Quidditch but the war diminished my chances of playing straight out of school and by the time I fleetingly considered the idea again, Harry was proposing a whirlwind tour of the Mediterranean.

The second morning when I opened up the Prophet, I immediately scanned for new ads. A small, neat box in the bottom right corner caught my eye and I greedily reread the minimal posting.

**Entry level position available. Pay negotiable depending on final placement. MNZ Enterprises. Direct applications to Floo grate #85379. **

A light bulb had gone off when I read the companies name and a moment later I was stunned to realize who's name the business belonged to.

MNZ Ventures - or the longer version, Malfoy, Nott, and Zabini Ventures.

My first instinct was to divert my attention and find another ad. But as I scanned the jumbled page my eyes kept going back to that smaller than the others posting. Harry, for one, would be outraged that I had sought out employment at his childhood nemesis' company. My parents and most of my brothers would be irate that I would choose a job with people who were still thought of as Dark wizards. But those reactions only furthered my interest in the opening.

I did not need Harry's reputation or someone else's recommendation to find a job. I could land a highly paid position without anyone else's help and I could definitely find something that would eliminate the burden of living with my parents at the age of twenty three.

The woman who answered the Floo call was snooty looking, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun at the base of her skull, so much so that her face seemed to be stretched tight over her petite bone structure. Clarisse, as she snippishly introduced herself, lifted a perfectly arched brow when I told her I would like to put in my resume for the job opening from the Prophet.

Apparently Clarisse didn't think I was MNZ material.

"One moment - " her lips twitched as she read over the scroll containing my accomplishments. "I'll send this to the Human Resources Assistant Director and notify you of your scheduled interview."

I remember spending the next few days in a panic at what to wear, how to sit, how to speak and respond appropriately - the whole thing had me nervous beyond anything I had experienced in several years. It turned out I didn't have much to worry about, though I didn't know that for another week until I was hired.

Pansy Nott, nee Parkinson, was the Chief Human Resources Officer and was grinning from ear to ear when I walked into her office for my formal interview. Instantly I was terrified that I wouldn't get the job - many Hogwarts alumni still carried grudges against the pathetic Slytherins who dared to offer Harry up to Voldemort in the Great Hall - and that Pansy would use this opportunity to belittle me and rub my unemployment in my face.

I was very wrong. Pansy made small talk about what my brothers were doing and who had children, both in my family and in a familiar group of acquaintances, and smirked like the canary who ate the cream as I stammered through my responses. Ten minutes in to the interview she stood up, walked around her enormous desk, and offered me her hand. Pansy happily told me that MNZ Enterprises would be proud to add me to their staff and handed me the necessary paperwork that I would need to fill out before I started the following Monday at nine o'clock.

If I had known then how much that one little decision would change, I probably still would have done everything as I had. I can't say that I regret any of the things that I have done.

But the questions now remain - the unanswerable queries that have rendered me incapable of thinking of anything else since I unpresumably walked outside to my sleek new BMW and popped open the trunk - who killed Blaise and why did they leave his body in my car for me to take the blame?


	2. Automatic Reactions

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.  
**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.  
**

**.**

**Chapter Two – Automatic Reactions**

Ginny didn't know what else to do. She panicked.

Without taking the precaution of checking for Muggles, she _had_ just rendered a very expensive car completely invisible - given the situation a miraculous feat that her brain was still trying to fathom - she focused her sporadic mind and cast the cloaking spell on herself too. Somehow Ginny forced her hand into her purse for the keys, the trunk already quickly slammed shut, and concentrated on blindly locating the pointy objects within the abyss of her bag. Her fingers fumbled over the buttons on the key fob, her left hand reaching out for the car door until she haltingly found the rounded handle. The locks popped up with a soft beep and Ginny pulled open the door, smoothly sliding inside and shutting it behind her as the locks jumped down again.

She inhaled once, knowing there was no time to dwaddle. Their home was probably being watched as she sat there thinking about her limited number of options and Ginny didn't want to take the chance of being caught by Aurors - or somebody worse.

Pansy didn't quite know what to expect when a very shaken Ginny knocked on her door. She was instantly on her guard when the curvy redhead turned and wordlessly unveiled her shiny BMW. Cocking her head to the side, Pansy folded her arms over her chest and stared at Ginny. The other witch could not look at her, not even a glance, so she slowly walked towards the car.

The trunk popped open without a word and Pansy haltingly paced towards the back end of the car. Thankfully the wards protecting her and Theo's home were set to readjust around their numerous comings and goings as well as guests and Pansy could not have been happier for those extra precautions the moment her violet gaze fell on the heap of Blaise's body. A hand muffled her instinctive cry of shock, her eyes darting back to Ginny only to find her friend still standing there, staring blankly with shock.

"What happened, Gin?" Pansy asked in a timid voice.

Ginny looked to the shadowed trunk, Blaise's awkwardly bent legs poking up through the faint sunlight. She remembered him putting those black wool pants on that morning, his long, toned legs sliding into the soft fabric as his deft fingers pulled up the waist to his hips. The same hands and fingers that had spread her knees and soaked her panties just before then.

"I don't know." Her voice sounded like someone else's to her own ears, her words flat and lifeless. "I found him - I found him like that ten minutes ago when I was getting ready to leave to go somewhere. I came straight here."

If there was one thing Pansy knew about Ginny Weasley it was that she didn't lie to the people closest to her. Not when it was life or death anyways. And this was definitely a life or death situation. Pansy felt it in her gut that Ginny hadn't killed Blaise - not only was killing not willingly in her character but the couple was sickeningly happy, giving Ginny no motive at all to eliminate her lover.

Pursing her lips, Pansy stepped closer to the open trunk. She knew why Ginny had immediately come to her, why so many of her closest friends asked her for assistance when they were in a particular predicament. She was good at covering her tracks, more so than the others, and she was a master of manipulating evidence. She was not entirely proud to admit to some of the crimes she had helped to alter but there were also many instances where she was able to find the real evidence and help bring down numerous people who sought to harm her own or someone else's loved ones.

"What do you need me to do?" Pansy questioned.

"Help me stage a body dump somewhere," Ginny responded without looking away from the bend of Blaise's knees pressed up against the black paneling. "Somewhere where I won't be connected to the crime. I haven't touched anything but the fibers from my car are on him now as well as any stray pieces of junk that are in there."

"Do you want me to examine him first?"

"No," was Ginny's immediate answer. "No - I don't want to touch his - his body at all."

"But I wouldn't -"

"No."

Pansy conceded, silently nodding as she too stared at the lifeless body of one of her closest friends.

"Come on then," Pansy flatly stated. "Let's get back inside - we certainly can't do anything about this now. Later we'll have to drive the car to the site since you don't want to move him yet. We can levitate him there."

Ginny nodded and quickly moved into action, her right hand pulling the shiny keys out of her pocket as she pressed a button for the trunk to shut on its own. Pansy hurried towards the slightly ajar door of her enormous home, glancing back once at the car and thanking Merlin that Theo and Draco weren't back yet.

Darkness finally setlled in and the still-in-shock friends almost dazedly prepared for their evening's activity. Ginny had a steadier hand on the wheel than her friend imagined she would and the pair silently drove back to the outskirts of London to her and Blaise's brownstone. Pansy didn't question why Ginny was taking them back to where she had initially found the corpse - she was only along for the ride and her assistance on this trip.

It was nearing eleven o'clock when the BMW silently crawled down Rose Road, Ginny slowly manuevering down the street to the empty park at the end. As they pulled up to the curb, she imagined the children who played here, the parents who lounged on the benches while they garnered some partial free time. All of that would be ruined when the sun broke over the horizon in the morning and a lifeless body was found somewhere amongst the foliage.

Seemingly unbidden, she let out a rough sob. Pansy wiggled in her seat, inching closer until she unhinged the seat belt and reached over the center console to lay her hand over Ginny's forearm. She squeezed reassuringly, silently telling her they would grieve together, and waited another moment after a smaller sob escaped.

Ginny's hands unhooked from their grasp on the steering wheel, one arm rising to wipe at the collected moisture beneath her eyes, and she rotated her neck to look away from her own front door. "How do you want to do this?"

Pansy felt her shoulders drop with the weight of Ginny's collected and distant words. Her heart physically ached for the wonderful wizard they all lost and she had to continuously blink to keep the tears at bay as she watched the redhead barely keep it all together.

"Let's take a look at our . . . cargo, shall we?" Pansy tried for optimistic but positivity was a hard thing to sell at the moment.

After silently opening and closing the doors, they stood side by side at the end of the car, their now visible eyes glued to the blue and white emblem adorning the trunk.

"Once you open it, I'm going to levitate him out," Pansy stated. Ginny mutely nodded as one hand held her keys and the other tightly gripped her wand. "We're going to take him over to that far tree - the one with the moss hanging down."

Ginny nodded again, this time pressing the trunk unlock button on the electronic fob as the locks whizzed open and the springs lifted the heavy metal. A small light clicked on and both women inhaled sharply as they, for the first time, got a good look at Blaise.

At the same time their eyes caught on the pooling of clothing at his neck and neither one could speak as they blankly stared at the pints of blood that covered a gashful wound and the entire space of the trunk beneath him. Suddenly their plans to dump the body elsewhere were out the window.

**D/G**

My heart has stopped beating. I can't breathe - I can't do anything but stare at the crimson liquid congealing around the puckered skin across Blaise's neck. The slash looks deep even in the shadowed lighting of the dim trunk. A gash inflicted with the intention of death - a cut meant to kill him in one motion.

The mocha skin hides his lifeless caramel eyes, his face appearing peaceful enough for me to otherwise think he was sleeping if the outpouring of his blood were not so visible. Pansy hasn't said a word but I can hear her short breaths, her feet shifting slightly on the snow covered ground. She's anxious now, strong enough to keep her head up as we deal with this but I can still sense her nervousness beneath the hard exterior.

I don't know what we could do. We can't move his body and risk carrying blood across the entire park - too much of it is soaked into the trunk carpet or dried to the plastic surfaces. We needed the crime scene to look authentic and there is no spell or charm anywhere that could duplicate the site exactly without one of us somehow implicating ourselves. Even with our shared expertise. Pansy is thinking the same thing, I can see that now as I quickly glance at her profile. This is one of her best friends, my lover - we have already wasted too much time standing here and she knows that soon someone will become suspicious of the two women standing behind an expensive car, staring into the very full trunk.

I shouldn't have involved her in this mess. My gut sinks down through my stomach as I realize how much worse it would be for her than it would be for me if either of us were associated with the crime. Blaise's death could turn either way, into a public spectacle or just swept under the rug, but I can't take the chance of letting the real murderer get away. Not when suspicion of Pansy would nearly seal the case shut before any evidence was examined. Not when a drawn out trial or a stint in St. Mungo's, possibly even Azkaban, could keep me from finding out the truth. I only have one option.

"Go home, Pans," I say tiredly, my voice strong with a steely resolve. "I can take care of this."

I can hear her short hair whip against the lapels of her thick coat as she stares at me defiantly.

"You can't do this alone," she states flatly.

"Go home, Pansy," I repeat, my gaze turning forward to the trunk's cargo.

"Ginevra Weasley! This is not the time to reject someone's help!" Pansy whispers harshly, her violet eyes probably narrowed as she glares at me. "I am not leaving you here!"

"Don't make me do something we will both regret," I say with a hint of dramatics. We are both very _skilled _witches but where she never hesitates, I still maintain a spark of compassion even after all of the terror that I have seen. Our job titles at MNZ Enterprises are just that, titles, and we both operate on different position requirements that no one outside of the company knows about. I am as lethal as she is and this time, I would not hesitate to take matters into my own hands if she did not cooperate.

"Pansy -" I warn without turning to look at her. "Go."

"Ginny -"

"Go."

She does not say another word and I can feel her emotional gaze turn from me back to the dead body before us. Pansy takes a long moment to soak in Blaise's form one last time and then she Apparates away with a small, sad pop.

Now that I am alone, I can't help but remain fixated on the corpse. While a majority of me is not sickened at all by the sight of a decomposing body, a larger part of me is almost repulsed by the gruesome image because it is Blaise. My senses automatically perk up to feel for any movement or listen for any sounds as I blankly stare at the corpse, my instincts dulling into an emotional blur the longer I keep the world around me unfocused.

By now whoever has been watching me is getting into position. They're calling their back up or alerting the Auror office of a heinous crime. The discreet eyes that I've felt on my back since we parked at the park entrance are raising the hairs along my arms and I know if I wait any longer I'll be caught in the act.

My fingerprints and stray hairs are all over the car and there is no time left for me to remove the evidence. This is my personal car after all and when they finally put the pieces together I'll be the only suspect. The only person who will be accused of and tried for Blaise's murder. Because if they can break into my very expensive and adept car to stash the body, then whoever they are will certainly be able to get into my home or office to plant the murder weapon.

Pulling out my wand, I silently cast a preservation charm on the body, remove the other charms and enchantments on the car, and sigh heavily, reaching up to grab the edge of the trunk and slam it shut. There is no point in doing so but I press the button to lock the car anyways. Aurors or the Muggle police will be here soon and I have used up all of the minutes I should have used to come up with a plan.

Bowing my head, I wordlessly say a prayer for Blaise's soul and press my fingers to my lips, transferring one last kiss to the metal atop his current resting place. Gripping my wand tightly, I squeeze my eyes shut and imagine the small cottage tucked away along the coast. Blaise had insisted we purchase it under false names in case a time like this ever came and I silently thank him for his preemptive understanding as I Apparate away from London.

**D/G**

Tuesday, January 19th dawned amidst a flurry of snowflakes and a covering of the rising sun by a thicket of heavy clouds. The weather was fitting for the mood it pushed onto the inhabitants of Wizarding Great Britain.

Not a soul could open their copy of the Daily Prophet or walk down any street in Diagon Alley, any Wizarding street really, without a large poster of Blaise's face being seen. Some people stopped to garner a better look at the enlarged photo and some merely spared it a passing glance. Those who took a step closer to read the fine print were instantly shaken to their core - whether they had forgiven the supposed Death Eaters or not, everyone who stared at the handsome, swarthy face was unnerved by the heinous, senseless death of one of their youths.

The former Slytherins who saw the article, or the death announcement posters, were taken aback, a few of the more shady witches or wizards quickly looking around to make sure they were not being watched. A much smaller picture of Ginny was printed beneath the public obituary, her smiling, happy face covered by a flashing red bar that said 'WANTED.' Some Slytherins wondered if they could be next - were the Weasleys part of a secretive task force designed to eliminate any remaining Death Eaters? - while a select few knew better.

Draco was not even out of bed before he heard the news. Narcissa came rushing into her son's bedroom, her traveling robes still on from her hasty arrival, tears rushing down her normally dry cheeks as she screamed and ranted incoherently. Draco was only able to make out 'Blaise' and 'Lucia' and something about 'impostrous Weasleys' from her mutterings but those two words were enough to prompt him to sit up and tiredly tell his mother to calm down.

Cool and collected Narcissa blurrily glared at the young wizard, her emotions snapping back together as she stalked towards him. Draco was unprepared for her to throw something at him and he ducked slightly when he saw a copy of the Prophet hurdling towards him. Holding the newspaper up and smoothing out the creases, his grey eyes narrowed before they rapidly scanned the enormous article. His gaze jumped down to the flashing print at the bottom and he instinctively held his composure as he read the wanted posting, his gut lurching then roaring with anger.

If there was one person in the entire world who would never harm a hair on Blaise's head it was Ginny. Draco tossed the paper aside and heatedly threw the covers off his legs. Brushing past his now confused mother, he hurried to get dressed for what was sure to be one of the longest days of his career.


	3. Photographic Memories

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Three - Photographic Memories**

George could not hide the shock and surprise that overcame his freckled face upon opening the Daily Prophet. As was tradition in their home, the Quibbler was read first in the morning, and throughout the day and the evening, but he sometimes managed to sneak a copy of the mainstream Wizarding newspaper into the current issue of the other media outlet without his girlfriend noticing. On that morning especially he didn't think Luna would mind.

The wizard he had come to accept as family smiled from the months old picture adorning the front page. His shoulder length black hair was slicked back and even through the black, white, and gray gradients he could see the rosiness to Blaise's cheeks. The image looked to be from a Ministry gala the lot of them had attended back in October and George frowned at the happiness alight in his colorless eyes.

"He had so much potential," Luna commented airily from over his shoulder, causing George to whip his head around so his good ear was directed at her. "I hope they catch whoever did this to poor Blaise."

One fiery eyebrow rose, his blue eyes narrowing slightly as he gave the blonde witch a once over. Sometimes she really did say the oddest things.

"You don't think Ginny did it then?" He questioned neutrally. "Like the Prophet is claiming?" His voice rose with a hint of anger at the ridiculous accusation.

"Of course not!" Luna exclaimed. "I wouldn't put it past that offensive rag to have allowed that horrid Skeeter woman to write this article."

Luna particularly did not like the sham of a reporter that was Rita Skeeter. Ever since that despicable woman had written a defamatory piece about Luna only dating George for the fortune he had acquired, the younger witch could not even see the journalist's name without going off into a whirling of anger.

George's gaze quickly turned back to the displayed front page. "No author's name on the article but I wouldn't put it past them either."

Silence blanketed the cushy apartment as the couple stared at the smaller image at the bottom. You could scarcely see Ginny's smiling face for the flashing red bar over her picture and even when you caught the upturn of her grin in a seconds pause, you knew that her image was not meant to bring calm or a welling of Wizarding pride as her photo had done in the past. This image was branded with lies and dishonesty - a bright beacon to all of Great Britain that one of their most loveable war heroes had fallen from grace.

George sighed wearily, his brain going fuzzy with the attempt to wrap itself around the concept of another loved one being dead, and unthinkingly brushed the fingers of his left hand over the place where he once had an ear. His first thought had been to immediately Floo to Ginny and Blaise's brownstone but he was sure that Aurors were swarming the home now. He could still travel there under the guise of finding his sister but George was still wary of the Ministry and how his presence at the crime scene would be perceived.

"We should probably head over to the Burrow. Mum's probably clawing at the door ready to run off and find Ginny."

Luna silently nodded, her aquamarine gaze locked on the image of the swarthy boy she had had a crush on many, many years ago. A spot in her heart ached for that unrequited love and her shoulders itched to sag despairingly with the anguish she felt.

"I'll get our robes," she commented rhetorically and turned, leaving the room as George vacantly stared at the full-page article.

"I'll stop by MNZ after we leave the Burrow to see what Draco, Theo, and Pansy know," Luna stated upon returning to the living room. "I'm sure they're up to their eyeballs in reporters and law enforcement though," she continued as if George had responded.

"I'll go with you," he replied emptily, his legs unbending as he shot up to stand. "Merlin knows Mum is going to be a right mess until she has some answers."

Individually they slipped into their heavy winter robes and simultaneously they retrieved their wands. Luna stepped into the fireplace first, throwing a handful of green Floo powder to her feet as she called out their destination. George was right behind her and for all of the Galleons in the world he hoped that Ginny was safely tucked away in their childhood home, eager and ready to explain how the Prophet had mangled their front page story to shockingly accuse her of murder.

**D/G**

The slate grey exterior of MNZ Ventures appeared more drab than usual, the overcast and drizzling weather lending the imposing, sleek building an extra air of staggering extremity. The structure itself had occupied a corner of downtown London for many, many years but it had remained vacant for decades, seemingly just an abandoned building, until the expansive business just popped up over night. In reality MNZ had been in operation for almost ten years but the Muggle world was unaware of its existence, and thriving business, until the three namesakes of the company decided to expand past the limitations of the Wizarding world.

For the Muggles, it was a sort of law firm, eager and ready to represent a slew of clients, as well as a well-known but well kept secret concerning under the table services and - jobs. In the first six months alone the Muggle clientele doubled the Wizarding patrons and Blaise had kept a smug grin on his face for the remainder of that year as a permanent reminder to Draco that his ultimate decision as CEO had been fruitful.

"Sir - are you going to get out of the car?"

Draco's blonde head snapped up from the trance he had been in, his silver eyes jumping to Reginald's inquiring gaze in the rearview mirror.

"Yes, yes - of course," he absently responded, his body remaining still as he made no movement to do as he had just said he would.

His eyes returned to where he had been staring, the marble outline atop the glass front doors still dripping with rain drops. This building brought on a flood of memories pertaining to Blaise and for a split second Draco considered telling Reginald to take him back to the Manor. He glanced to the assembled crowd in front of the building and exhaled loudly, logic debating with duty as he stared.

A swarm of reporters, Muggle and Wizarding alike, were gathered on the slippery steps waiting for the Chief Operating Officer to arrive, the mass jumping like crazed paparazzi. They were watching the tinted Rolls Royce with expectancy, their cameras raised and poised to garner the first photograph of the handsome, blonde man. Everyone was waiting for him to step put of the car and stoically give a statement about the alleged murder of MNZ's CEO by another one of their prominent head figures.

Draco could see copies of the Muggle newspaper clutched in several reporter's hands, Ginny's smiling face staring back at him even through the foggy car windows. Since her expensive BMW had been found in a neutral spot, technically Muggle land since they were completely unaware of the thriving Wizarding population in that area, the shocking death was being broadcasted across every possible form of communications. The Muggles had taken a liking to the wealthy young persons who ran the elusive MNZ Enterprises and they were just as greedy as the witches and wizards to lay claim to the beautiful men and women who frequented their social scene. Blaise and Ginny had personally established several charities and beneficial organizations for the underprivileged Muggles and the non-magical folk were now horrified to see the crumbling of a relationship they had all admired.

He still couldn't believe it. He wouldn't believe that Ginny - sweet, kind, and fiery Ginny - had murdered Blaise in cold blood. After scanning over the accompanying article in that mornings Prophet, Draco had come to three conclusions: 1, Ginny didn't do it because 2, the methods and actions were too sloppy for her style and 3, whoever was framing her was completely unaware of what they actually did at MNZ. Because anyone in their right mind, anyone who was aware of who little Ginny Weasley had become, would know that she was capable of much more gruesome and dangerous ways than what they were blaming her for. And while Ginny was more adept and graceful with a set of blades in her hands than any of the rest of them, Draco was certain that she had not committed the crime.

His hand lazily flicked towards the shiny metal handle and the locks jumped upwards, the door swinging open as a gust of frigid air swept into the car. Draco unthinkingly twisted his legs sideways and placed both feet on the slick pavement, his body folding as he stepped out of the luxurious automobile. Instantly the reporters and cameramen rushed forward, a blinding array of flashes spotting his vision as he ducked his blonde head and slammed the door behind him.

"Mr Malfoy! What do you have to say about the death of your CEO?"

"Your employee murdered your best friend! What was your first reaction after finding out?"

"Mr. Malfoy!"

"What are your comments on this situation, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Who will replace Mr. Zabini as the CEO?"

"Do you know where Miss Weasley is hiding, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco shouldered through the crowd, his lips pressed tightly together as an angry flush crept up the back of his neck and heated the tips of his ears. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his wool coat, his wand grasped tightly beneath his fingers as he inhaled and exhaled steadily.

The greedy crowd followed his ascent up the short, marble steps and Draco nearly hexed the lot of them as he briefly paused, his hand reaching for the door handle as he glanced at their eager reflections on the fogged glass. Instead he jerked open the usually transparent door and gruffly pulled it shut behind him. Instantly greedy hands were pulling on the handles but long ago they had set up wards to keep the reporters out, snuffing their adamant attempts to get closer to him as he strolled through the minimal lobby.

Draco nodded a greeting to the receptionist, her dark head bowing in response to show her silent grief. He forcefully punched the 'up' button for the elevator and waited the half second for the chrome doors to slide open. Stepping in and turning around, he jammed the key for the top floor and angrily glared at the reporters as the doors swooshed shut in front of him.

**D/G**

When tragedy happens, when your world shifts so significantly so suddenly, everything seems to fall away as your life becomes permanently tunnel visioned. The light at the end appears so small, like a speck of a single snowflake against an inky night sky, and there seem to be too many obstacles in the way of that bright finish line. Every day feels like it carries on and on and every task, every movement feels pointless if it is not enacted or purposed for your greater goal of meeting the end of your struggles.

I feel that seemingly never-ending hopelessness as I stand just inside the thick wooden door of our getaway cottage. My breathing is shallow, even though the most recent movement I did was rush through the door after Apparating, and my eyes quickly adjust to the darkness of the silent home. Despite the heavy burden on my shoulders and the weightless yoke around my neck, I find myself staring at the darkened interior of the small house.

It is remarkably similar to Bill and Fleur's Shell Cottage, with the exception of tacky shells covering every surface. I enjoyed visiting my brother and sister-in-law once the war was over and when I was available, not out traveling the globe or attending some snooty party with Harry, I babysat their infant children. Shell Cottage reminds me of thoughtless days and easy happiness and I remember feeling the same sense of peace the first time Blaise and I walked through the door.

There is not another house nearby for a few kilometers and the privacy afforded to the quaint structure is exactly what I need right now. This is the very last place in Britain that the authorities would look for me and I know I should feel safer knowing that I'm basically Unplottable to them right now.

But I can't. My idle thoughts about the architecture and decorations are distracted by small mementos of Blaise. There's a picture of us, taken out on the beach just behind the house, from six months back that is sitting on a short table against the nearest wall. One of his black sweaters is hung carelessly on a hook just down the hall, a item of clothing long forgotten after any number of enjoyable visits to this house.

Hanging on the wall over the small fireplace is a Wizarding photograph from the long summer holiday the lot of us took only last year. My heart swells, beating erratically, as I watch the sequence of the picture replay over and over.

I'm standing in the middle, the setting sun casting shadows over my face that are redoubled by the height of the men on either side of me. Blaise has his arm securely around my waist and Draco has one arm tossed around my shoulders, both wizards sharing a smile as I glance down at George, his arm casually draped around Blaise's neck, and Luna on the other side of my twinless brother, her blonde hair swaying with the invisible breeze. Someone must have said something because Pansy, her hand casually gripping Draco's waist, gives a smartass response and we all turn to laugh with her soundless chuckle. Suddenly Theo runs in on the left side, his arm snaking around Pansy's middle to pull her against him, and bares a wide smile, his eyes indicating that he was telling the group to smile too even as he remained posed effortlessly. A flash explodes across the picture, our seven faces frozen for a second, and the photograph returns to the beginning of the loop.

I can't stop staring at Blaise's face, his happiness apparent as he looks at the photograph me, our gazes only meeting once but that instant holds a bevy of heated passion that makes my heart yearn for him. I can still smell him here, his scent lingering long after his departure from this place, and my chest clenches tighter. Even if I turn away from the framed photo I know his presence will be everywhere else in this house. Every room holds a memory of some sort and I know I'll still expect him to come padding around the corner, his feet bare and food of some sort in his hands.

My chest constricts and explodes all at once and I realize I can't do this. It all crashes down on me and I feel this horrible wave of guilt, shame, and hopelessness try to drown me as my lungs seem to stick together, not wanting to work when I need them most. I can't do this - I can't handle this - not without Blaise, not when he's gone and I'm left here to continuously run from being detained by the government for a crime I didn't commit.

My knees give out but I don't feel the hardness of the stone floor as I crumble, my shoulder hitting the wall to my right as my balance wavers and I push out a hand to steady myself. I'm awkwardly sitting on my legs but the strain doesn't matter as I lean my head sideways to rest against the wall, my hands folding in my lap as I exhale shakily.

Blaise is gone - dead.

He's never coming back.

If I hadn't seen the body for myself I still wouldn't believe it. Blaise is too capable and stealthy and smart to ever be caught unawares by anyone. His death, and these suspicious circumstances, obviously do not bode well for me but there is an extra thump in my erratic heart beat, a split second where the rhythm stops and my lungs squeeze inwards all at once.

Someone is targeting me. Someone wants me punished for whatever reason. But who else will be targeted? Who could be next? Blaise had many allies and twice as many enemies. Was it because of his position at MNZ - his vehement and public stances after the war? What is the real murderer planning - and how many more lives do they plan to ruin?

My mind jumps from the dizzying questions to a graphic fictionalization of Blaise's death. Everything else in my brain stops as the vivid mental images come jolting forward. Black leather gloves wrapping around his neck from behind - a hooded face leaning down over his shoulder to whisper something in his ear as a light reflects off the blade of a large knife. Blaise is struggling but his captor has a weapon aimed at his throat, he can't be too jumpy and risk accidental impalement. His dark head is tilted backwards sharply and in one swoop, a leather clad hand has slashed the sharpened edge against his soft skin and a deep cut begins to spew a thicket of blood. Blaise is released and he drops to his knees, one hand grappling for his throat as his strength gives out and he topples over completely.

My stomach wrenches and I cover my mouth before the bile creeping up my throat becomes anything more. I swallow thickly but the reaction to the images, even materialized by my own imagination, have made the situation that much more real to me. Blaise really is dead.

When my lips tear apart and my mouth opens to form an O, this time it is not vomit that I choke out but a sob. My eyelids clench shut as fat tears leak out of the corners and my arms wrap around my chest as my heart feels like it has disappeared and had a stake shoved through it all at once. I cry for everything that has been ripped away from me and everything that has been thrust into my lap instead. I cry for the loss I never thought I would have to endure, for the painful wound from losing a loved one that is now reopened and gushing with agony and dark despair. I had only just gotten through my battle with grief from the war's deaths and now the one person who had turned my life around, who had shown me that I deserved to be loved and cared for, is gone and I am left alone.

I don't know how long it takes before my throat is raw and my eyes are red and puffy but the tears dry up and a hard fatigue hits me. The lack of wetness upon my cheeks does not deter the large fist from squeezing my heart into a painful oblivion and my back curls as my head and shoulders drop forward to rest against the bent angle of my legs. When I manage to pull myself back up into a sitting position some minutes later, my eyes peel open only to clench shut again as a stream of brightening sunlight coming through the small window on the door surprises me.

Evidently the sun had still risen and another day had dawned despite the irreparable damage done to my life in the past twenty-four hours. Unable to fathom what I'm going to do now or how I'm going to get out of this disastrous mess, I shakily climb to my feet and wobble down the long hallway to the master bedroom at the end. Sleep is the only option I have for some semblance of respite from this chaos now and I can only hope that I'll wake up and realize this has all just been one horrible nightmare.

A girl can dream I tell myself as I pull the thick comforter over my shivering body, all of my clothes still on. The only thing I can wish for now is a miracle. Or for someone to come find me here in this desolate house and tell me everything is going to be alright.

**D/G**

Draco is sweeping through the elevator doors before they open completely. Anatasia jumps to her feet behind the half-moon reception desk and her pale eyes are wide as he swiftly blows past, his stride causing a few papers on the counter to flutter. She leans forward to watch as he strides past the two bulky men dressed in black from head to toe standing on either side of a pair of opaque glass double doors, the one on the left merely grabbing the chrome handle to hold it open as Draco flys through in a streak of expensive cologne and fury.

Monique mimics Anatasia's sorrowful but curious expression as he bypasses the last reception desk and Draco immediately pushes open his office door at the end of the hallway. Pansy, Theo, and Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise's second in command, are already gathered in the spacious room and he hastily shuts the door behind him, wordlessly casting a strong locking and silencing charm. Their low murmuring conversation ceased as soon as he walked in and Draco feels three pairs of eyes on him as he strides past them and stands behind his massive granite desk.

No one says a word as he removes his wool coat and drapes it over the back of his wing tipped leather chair. They rotate to eye his movements as he turns around and stares out the glass windows that make up the far wall, his long fingers clasping behind his back as he stiffly stands and bears their gazes on him. He needed a moment to compose himself before facing the remaining chief members of his operation and as if he had planned his minute of silence, the fireplace lights up with green flames just as he spins around with his lips parted.

Their attention turns to the open Floo connection and again no one says a word as two bodies step out of the fireplace, both dusting off soot from their clothing before looking up to the grim crowd.

"What have we missed?" George asks with a wiry grin, his eyes not holding the usual humor that he still carries.

"We haven't -" Pansy begins but Draco interrupts her, his deep voice drowning out her impatient words.

"We were just beginning the discussion on how to prove Ginny's innocence. You're just in time."

George and Luna share a brief look of agreement and step off the protruding stone in front of the mantle. Draco pulls out his chair and sits down, his elbows pressing into the desk as he leans forward, as the other three persons take the hint and occupy their own seats. Once all five of them are sitting and looking to the blonde wizard in front of them, Draco knits his eyebrows together and opens his mouth, an adamant speech flowing forth that would have convinced anyone wary of Ginny's actions that she was innocent. As he finishes speaking, everyone else pipes up to voice their opinions and he sits back, a Quick Notes Quill, v3, hurrying across parchment at his side, to let them strategize as he works on figuring out where Ginny is hiding.


	4. Guilts Unassuaged

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.  
**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.  
**

**.**

**Chapter Four - Guilts Unassuaged**

_Her pale, freckled arm looked like snow next to the dark chocolate color of his skin. Her half-shut mocha eyes stared at the contrast as his chest rose and fell beneath the spot of her her bare breasts and hardened nipples pressed against the curve of his ribcage, she felt every breath enter and leave his body._

_"I feel like you're trying to burn a hole through my body the way you're staring at me," Blaise commented, his rich voice husky with amusement as she tilted her head back to look up at him, her fiery locks brushing against his arm around her naked waist._

_"Well its a good thing I like you otherwise that's exactly what I would be doing," Ginny replied. Her mouth turned up in a remarkably familiar smirk, one eyebrow raising slightly as her gaze turned lazy._

_"I would guess so," Blaise responded thickly._

_Ginny nestled her knee between his thighs, her body covering as much of his as her size would allow. She rested her chin on the protruding bone of his sternum and their eyes locked as she slowly slid up his chest. When her nose was a small shake away from touching his chin, his left hand absently lifted to stroke her silky locks. As they both blinked to rid the dryness from their eyes, they remained silent, staring at each other as if nothing else in the world mattered._

_Some time later Ginny rolled them onto their sides and still they remained, legs and arms intertwined around each other's body as they laid nose to nose. Neither said a word - they just stared._

_Blaise's hand had wandered down her spine and was slowly drawing a circle across the small of her back, his spirals growing larger as she shivered under his touch. He brushed over a thick scab and the tender brushing was gone as he lightly traced the line of the healing wound. Ginny did not appear ashamed of the soon-to-be scar nor did she grow anxious when his dark brows furrowed and his full lips hesitantly parted._

_"I really think you should reconsider Pielat's offer to commandeer your duties in the field."_

_His words were measured and firm but his voice carried a trace of worry and concern. Ginny batted her long lashes, the mascaraed tips grazing the tops of her pinkened cheeks, and fixed an emotionless expression._

_"I've been in charge of dispatching agents and basically running their missions for six months and already you want to give the job to someone else." Ginny's tone was heavy but bordering on playful. Blaise blinked as a copper brow arched. "Tired of my methods already, are you, Mr. CEO?"_

_"I want you to be safe." His fingers ran up and down the scab. "When you're out there - I worry."_

_Ginny couldn't help the wide grin that erupted across her face. She always got a thrill when he voiced his desires to protect her._

_"And you don't think I worry about you when you're on a job?" She responded lightly, her upper lip sliding between her teeth as she bit down on the plump redness. Her slim thigh moved between his legs and Blaise pressed his palm to the small of her back as she grinned further._

_"Let's just call in and tell them that we're never coming back. We got lost in the sheets of our bed," Blaise mumbled as she grinded her hips against his muscled lower abdomen, instant gratification coming as she felt his fat cock harden beneath her touch._

_Ginny broke their stare, nuzzling her nose against the velvety skin of his neck as she lightly kissed his throat. Her lips nipped at his ear lobe, his one weakness that gave him a round of heavy shivers every time, and she let the warmth of her breath tickle his skin before she spoke, her voice husky and aroused._

_"I think there's a spell for that," Ginny commented softly against the shell of his ear and Blaise groaned under her scorching touch, his mind jumping to all of the possibilities she had not specifically voiced._

_She tilted her head over his face and slanted her lips against his mouth, a passionate kiss ensuing that was quickly intensified with the addition of roaming hands and nudging hips. Blaise maneuvered his weight to roll his body on top of hers and Ginny fluidly wrapped one pale leg around his thighs, her other bending at the knee so that he rested perfectly within the cradle of her waist. His lips left her mouth to travel over the jutting of her chin and down the arched column of her throat, a tentative knocking growing louder in the distance._

_Blaise's lips trailed a fiery line down between the mounds her breasts, his tongue slipping out to lick her soft skin with every inch he bypassed. Ginny pressed herself further against the lean line of his body, her eyes shutting as the knocking sounded more persistently._

_He playfully lapped at the indention of her belly button and Ginny spread her legs wide as Blaise glanced up to her wanton expression, a smirk pulling his lips wide and baring the tips of his pearly teeth. Her hands wound through the coarse locks atop his head and Blaise bent his neck,sliding his body so that he was eye level with her dripping cunt. The knocking was as loud as the blood pumping in her ears and just as she felt the warmth of his breath on her inner thighs, she jerked up and opened her eyes._

Ginny gasped for air, her brown orbs wide with panic, her surroundings rapidly coming under recognition. She pressed her thighs together to cool the molten heat between her legs, her right hand reaching out over the bed to where Blaise should have been. She felt the sheets for his lingering warmth and only when her brows furrowed together and she realized she was still dressed from the day before did Ginny remember that Blaise was gone - dead.

Her head dropped against her chest and she involuntarily let out a heavy sob. It had been two days since she had arrived at the beach cottage - two days of pacing back and forth inside the house while her anxiety and the many unanswered questions gnawed her from the inside out. The tapping that had woken her up from the painful memory-dream persisted and Ginny glanced up, glaring as she looked around the bedroom lit by the pale light of the rising sun. A thick branch was scraping against the glass window pane on the wall across the room and she guessed from the repeated pattern that the wind was blowing pretty fiercely outside.

The enormous hole that had taken up space in her chest seemed to grow larger, expanding with an invisible pain, as she attempted to breathe steadily. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hands coming up to run through her tangled mess of curls, and she imagined what the Wizarding world was doing right then. Were her friends and family lobbying the Ministry for her innocence on her behalf? Her running had surely not made the situation any better but no one had come busting down her door, wanting to drag her away in handcuffs - that was a good sign, right?

And now that she had had time to think and strategize about how she could fix this situation, Ginny was more anxious than ever. Three minutes awake and she was already scrambling to get the covers off and her feet on the floor. She could hardly leave the beachfront property but there was also a serious lack of books and means of communications that she could use to begin solving her own alleged crime.

Striding out of the master bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen, Ginny went to autopilot as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out various items to begin cooking breakfast. All she had left were her routines and without some sort of structure, without any sort of guidance or help from Blaise, she was most likely to fall back into a haze of depression and mourning. She knew that she had become stronger, tougher in the past eighteen months but those methods and that inner strength was nothing in comparison to the scared little girl that never really went away.

"Maybe something will happen today," Ginny said aloud, her gaze wandering out the window as a hand remained on the handle of the frying pan atop the lit burner. "We'll see," she added and returned her sights to the egg that needed to be flipped, her mind gearing towards plans of revenge and ways to slip back among the Wizarding society unnoticed.

**D/G**

The company could not be completely ignored after the six of them, including the heads of the other departments at that, decided to put all of their energy into finding Ginny and unmasking Blaise's real murderer. Appearances still had to be maintained and the public could not suspect a thing. So Draco and company dutifully stuck to their schedules and thanked the heavens for the gifts of magic so that they could arrive to work in the morning and all be assembled at Malfoy Manor five minutes later.

When they were each individually summoned to the Auror's office and the Muggle police station for questioning, they were not late and they gave as simple answers as they could. They were agreed that they would not impede on the law enforcement's job - they would not tamper with evidence, they would not openly pursue suspects, and they would not visit any crime scenes or locations unless there was no other option. None of them needed to be linked to the crime nor did they desire to be investigated further or suspected of anything that they would never have wished to have happened in the first place.

That didn't make it any easier for Draco to face the press and the public day in and day out. They were all grieving, that much they did not have to fake, but it was as if they were expected to immediately join the fold against Ginny, automatically condemning her without thinking twice. The Weasleys were having a hard enough time trying to cope with the situation while they denied the allegations and he did not wish to bring those rabid reporters to his doorstep by publically stating that they were spewing lies. It would be much easier for him, and the other five, to fly under the radar and gather discrete information if they were not hounded by the paparazzi anymore so than usual.

Which made their predicament that much more difficult. Even though they did not individually have reporters banging down their doors, they were still being watched and scrutinized as they went about their routines. Draco fists his hands against the wood grain of his enormous desk as he recalls the incident George had just relayed to him that afternoon. Apparently some punks thought it would be comical to run into his store, knock over several shelves, and proceed to throw magical smoke bombs, his own creations at that, across the shop while screaming "Your sister's a murderer!"

Not many witches and wizards were exactly upset at the death of a former Slytherin but it stood that many men and women were, in some ways, jealous and angry towards the Weasleys. The entire family had been two steps shy of all of them receiving the Order of Merlin First Class and many people still held grudges against the brood for their social climb after the war.

Draco's stomach churns with animosity, his teeth grinding together, as he remembers the horrid things he had said to Ginny at Hogwarts. He couldn't care less about Ron's feelings and their solid rivalry but he deeply regrets the choices and actions he made while in school and under the conniving influence of his father. The Weasley family is completely odd and enormously off their rockers but he has found a certain fondness for Molly and her overt motherlyness, a comfortable, if not tentative, relationship with Arthur, and a brotherly friendship with her siblings, excluding Ron. They did not deserve this harsh treatment and they certainly did not merit the bitter glances and angry glares that they now received wherever they went.

Draco runs a hand through his shoulder length platinum locks, his neck drooping and his eyes shutting as he sighs heavily. The crystal glass he has been holding for the better part of two hours floats back to his grasp and he doesn't hesitate to sit up as he gulps down a bevy of Firewhiskey.

There has not been nearly enough liquor around for his tastes and he hasn't asked to know how Theo is feeling but Draco cannot get past the boulder in his stomach. The glass tips upwards once more as he drinks down the remainder of the alcohol and he is instantly waving his hand for the bottle of Ogden's to come flying off the wet bar on the other side of the spacious office.

He can't help but to think that he deserves the suffering he faces now. His hands tremble and his shoulders tense, each body part relaxing momentarily before it spazzes a minute later. Each time he closes his eyes he sees Blaise's dead body, the throat slashed, like the Prophet, and Pansy, mentioned, and his gaze empty. Draco cringes with each mental image but they are what he gets for the role he played in his friend's death.

All he can think about, all he has been able to think about for the past five days, is how he and Theo are responsible. How its their fault that Blaise is dead.

The three of them had an appointment at Damion's Wizarding Wear and Formal Attire at eleven o'clock the morning of his death. They were supposed to be there to get fitted for dress robes for Lucia's tenth wedding in two week's time. Draco had not given it a second thought when Blaise was not on time. He made a quip to Theo about Ginny keeping their best mate at home longer than she ought to and they shared a smirk in the row of mirrors. When an hour passed and he noticed it was just after noon, Draco suggested they grab some lunch and come back, hopefully Blaise having arrived in their absence.

Damion was all too pleased to take a break but the store owner was utterly confused when they returned and Blaise was nowhere to be seen. Theo offered to quickly Apparate to his townhouse and find him but Damion nervously tittered about having a tight schedule and the two wizards anxiously decided against going to look for Blaise. An owl arrived shortly after and Draco forgot about his friend's absence as he rushed out the door, hurriedly telling them that he was needed at the company. One of his clients was in the lobby demanding to speak to him about the negative results of his private investigation and Draco was too wound up to allow some harpy to cause a scene at his own business.

Ever the level headed one, Theo thanked Damion for his time, promised to return, with both Draco and Blaise, the following week for the rest of the fitting, and rushed after the blonde wizard. Where there was a crisis there was always the need for someone calm and they all knew that Draco was clearly not the person most likely to fit that description. For all he knew, by the time he arrived Draco could already have the woman bound and gagged and thrown in a supply closet simply because he did not want to deal with her.

They had both left the robes shop without remembering that Blaise had yet to be seen that day, something very uncharacteristic of him, and run head-on into other matters.

Draco feels his knee twitch, his muscles alive with an overeager anxiousness, and clenches the glass tighter. One moment of lapsed judgment and his best friend was dead. One seemingly unimportant instance and his world seemed to gain an enormous crack.

One minute to pause and think through everything that was going on and Blaise would still be alive. That is what Draco keeps thinking about, the Firewhiskey stock depleting with each passing hour.

**D/G**

I can't stay in this house any longer. One more minute and I'm going to explode from boredom and a lack of room to burn energy or do anything.

I have nothing to do but sit and watch the tide roll up onto the beach every few seconds, the foamy edges licking at the sand as it recedes back into the blue depths of the ocean. I should be out, sliding through people's shadows while I pass by unawares - finding the right clues and figuring out who's setting me up. I should be masquerading as another witch, flirting with dark and dangerous men as they slowly told me everything I needed to know. I should be out there! Finding Blaise's real murderer instead of staying cooped up in this damned beach cottage!

I can't even have the Prophet delivered here under another name on the off chance that someone becomes suspicious of the sudden residence with an unheard of name. The only thing I have to look forward to is another trip to the closest Muggle village, a whopping six kilometers by foot. I dare not attempt to Apparate, even though I know how to disguise my magical appearances within the Ministry department that monitors our comings and goings, in case they are tracking my unique signature. I cast myself invisible when I went two days ago and no one was the wiser that a soundless woman was walking among them, taking the food and items I needed and then depositing money on the counter.

It is the only contact I have had with any people for a week now. I gauged their newsstand for any headlines or articles about Blaise or myself, my heart leaping in my chest as I scanned each newspaper and trashy magazine they had on display. But it appeared the news was slow to travel to this part of the country and I was both elated and disappointed to realize that I wasn't any closer to finding out what was going on with my case.

My mind drifts back to a colorless memory of the aged man, holding up a copy of week old newspapers in each hand as men and women and children walked past without looking twice. No one there is any the wiser that a monumental murder had taken place. No one realizes the guilt I felt as I moved among them unnoticed, my shoulders bent and my stomach heavy with the knowledge that I could have prevented Blaise's death.

If I had just agreed to take a short holiday this week like he had suggested we wouldn't be in this mess. If I had just said yes, like I had wanted to, when Blaise had grinned and told me he was going to whisk me away before the wedding festivities began, giving me time to relax and unwind before his mother was jumping down our throats to orchestrate her tenth marriage ceremony. If I hadn't have given him the excuse that I had a case that needed my attention, one that couldn't wait - oh how I wish now, how I wish I could have seen how unimportant that assignment was - how wrong I had been to deny the man I love an opportunity to lavish me with his affections and an endless amount of uninterrupted time.

If I had taken my head out of my own ass and realized that life was short - that every minute counts and every second is precious - Blaise could still be alive. Blaise could laughing and grinning and keeping the rest of us sane. Instead I'm stuck in this claustrophobic house on a beautiful deserted beach trying to decide what options I have left. Maybe Blaise would be the one trying to figure what he was going to do with his life instead of me attempting to decide who I can trust the most to go to for help. My guilt is sometimes overcome by the rationality that I couldn't possibly have known what was going to happen - but that too washes away like the tide as I realize it doesn't matter, Blaise is gone now and I'm going to have to fight for my innocence to be heard.


	5. Location, Location, Location

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.  
**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.  
**

**.**

**Chapter Five - Location, Location, Location**

**.**

_"I don't like her. And I certainly don't trust her."_

Pansy had said those words eighteen months ago when Ginny was hired at MNZ. Even after all the years, she had still harbored resentment and jealousy for the redhead. Once she became one of their colleagues, Blaise had always said that he thought Pansy had initially been jealous of how quickly people took to Ginny, how she seemed to just glow and attract attention naturally. Of course his girlfriend would usually blush or playfully swat at his chest, denying any claim to the idea that she glowed.

But she had been - envious of how charismatic and outgoing Ginny was. How she could literally walk into a room and know a majority of the people in it, through her family or her own personal experiences. Anyone who came to Ginny with a complaint or sour attitude was promptly refreshed by her optimism and sarcastically dry humor. Pansy held more grace and poise in her pinky finger than Ginny had in her entire body but the dark haired witch felt foolish in comparison to the fiery woman who captured everyone's attention and always won their hearts.

Which is why their quick, and close, friendship astounded Draco, Blaise, and Theo. The men never would have anticipated to see the two witches gossiping about employees, venting about their lovers, and bitching about their assignments. Surely, they had hoped, the two women would eventually come to a peaceful understanding and agree to not argue and nearly hex each other to pieces every time they saw each other. Pansy and Ginny were so inherently different that their commonalities never seemed to be worth considering. It certainly made it easier for the rest of the staff to work efficiently without having to constantly pause their daily progress to ward off, or watch and listen, an always heated argument between the different department heads.

After everything they had been through, Draco found some humor in the knowledge that Ginny went to Pansy first. Sure Pansy was as skilled as any of the rest of them at what they did but her main specialty was frame jobs and Draco hoped beyond all prayers that Ginny had not been aiming to accomplish that.

As he sinks further into the large leather chair, it felt like he had been sitting here for ages, he releases his steady grasp on the empty glass of whiskey and lets his eyes fall shut. Sleep seems to grab at the edges of his consciousness but his head dips forward and he's jolted awake once more. Draco swivels his gaze and abruptly turns away, his eyes squeezing shut as the rising sun blasts its ray through the clear panes along the west wall.

Another night has passed with him sulking in his office. Another day lost to grief and despair as he stayed holed up at the Manor. He had not seen his friends since Blaise's funeral two days prior and he doubted any them were any more focused than he was on finding out the truth.

Draco could still feel the sympathetic pats on his shoulder, the reassuring hugs from people he vaguely recognized through the haze of where he was and what he was doing there. Lucia and Narcissa had clung to each other like they were the only person either of them could tolerate to be near them. Their near silent sobs accompanied Pansy's solid grip on his hand throughout the proceedings and when it was over, Draco knew the toughest part still remained. Seeing Blaise in the marble coffin was eery and jolting - he never thought this day would come, not without gray hairs and very wrinkled skin. The slash along his neck was carefully hidden and he would have thought Blaise were sleeping if not for the obvious pallor to his dark cheeks.

Some part of him had roared up in anger at seeing his best friend in such a state, without vitality and life, but the fog of running through the motions took over and Draco became a grieving host as the funeral became the memorial reception. That night, once he had returned to Malfoy Manor, he kicked his shoes off and fell into the leather chair behind his desk. Exhaustion won over and he did not peel open his eyes again until morning. His drinking spree had recommenced shortly after that and he had been in a constant state of inebriation since.

It is exactly one week to the day since Blaise had been killed and Draco is still at a loss for what to do. Pansy and Theo had been adamant in their plan to begin their collective searches, for information on the real killer and for finding Ginny, after the funeral but he is hardly waiting on the edge of his chair for their arrival. Two days have passed and no one has attempted any sort of communication with him. Some part of him is peeved with his friends for dragging out this temporary waiting period and part of him is relieved, though his mind automatically feels guilty even if for relief that he has more time to himself, alone.

Draco decides its time for a change of scenery, and clothing, and he abruptly stands from behind his desk and leaves his office. As he strides through the Manor to the Master's bedroom, he can't help but to think back to the funeral - how some piece of him had been missing, not to be confused with the enormous carved out hole in his chest from Blaise's death. Ginny should have been there with them, holding his hand and crying against his shoulder - she deserved to have been there. And for the first time since he had seen his best friend in his final resting place, Draco feels a spark of passion - a taste of revenge on his tongue for the witch or wizard who had so erroneously murdered Blaise and forced Ginny away from them.

Enough time has been wasted grieving, even if rightfully so, and he has an obligation to his friends to find the real culprit. The pact he made with the others does not matter - he cannot truly abide by those restrictions and still figure out this puzzle in time. No - he is going to have to bend the rules in order to accomplish what must be done.

And the first thing he plans on doing, after showering and changing, is revisiting one of the most photographed secondary crime scenes in recent history, the place where the murder weapon is said to have been found carelessly tossed aside. Draco is going to Blaise and Ginny's townhouse.

**D/G**

I really think I'm going to lose my mind. Azkaban seems like to would be a walk in the park compared to this hell hole of solitude and worry. I keep looking at the clocks, checking the time as the minutes crawl by - it is still Tuesday, still one week from when I had run away.

The sun does not appear to have moved across the clear blue sky at all and for a brief moment I am tempted to cast myself invisible again and walk along the beach. Maybe the fresh air and salt water will relieve some of the tension in my body. But I pause with my hand on the doorknob, sudden anxiety overwhelming me, and back away as if it were going to attack me. My chest constricts tightly and I'm clutching at the walls, my back sliding against the smooth surface, as fat tears abruptly leak out of my eyes. Suddenly I'm sobbing uncontrollably and I have no clue why.

Though it could be due to the fact that this past week had only flown by because I was in a grieving mess. I only managed to go to the Muggle village because I woke up and realized I had never changed my clothes from when I had seen Blaise last. His body to be exact. I smelled horribly and my face looked like I had been the one to die, my complexion was so pale and swallow. Since then I have made an effort to shower daily and eat as often as my distraught stomach feels like it.

But I am still breaking down and crying whenever I have a moment to pause and think. I cannot bear to think of what his funeral must have been like, hopefully Lucia did not bury him in some tacky mausoleum like she has repeatedly said she had already purchased. And I can only pray that his grave is somewhere that I can visit him. I owe him that at least.

When my cheeks are sticky with drying tears and my eyes itchy from weeping, I remain sitting on the floor in the kitchen. My body feels exhausted and I'm in no rush to be anywhere else. Now the sun seems to be moving across the sky and with its progress my mind works to unjumble this mismatched puzzle.

Who would want to kill Blaise? Who would also want to frame me? Was it someone within the company? Someone who hates me and didn't mind using him as collateral?

I can't think of anyone who would want to see either of us in so much pain or in the middle ofthat many lies. Sure there are a few nearly nameless people who have a grudge against one of us but no one, short of Lucia, dislikes our relationship enough to sabotage us. And though there are not many things I wouldn't put past Lucia Zabini to do for her own gain, killing her own son is not one of them. Merlin knows she doesn't like me but there are other methods available to her to extract me from Blaise's life.

The true identity of the person is put on hold for a moment as I think about who they would be - what qualities or knowledge they would have to have and know to have accomplished what they did. Any witch or wizard could unlock a Muggle car but Blaise had spelled mine so that only the key fob opened the doors, no matter what. For the murderer to have accomplished that much they would have have to been in my house at some point, probably even that morning. We don't employ any servants and the House Elf we do use on occasion, Mipsie, is more often than not with Lucia. No one outside of our friends has access to our townhouse and as far as I know no one was there that morning when Blaise was home alone.

Again I curse myself as I wish that I had listened to Blaise when he suggested installing cameras throughout the house. When the company had made the transition into the Muggle world he especially had been eager to learn about the gadgets and gizmos the non-magical folk carried around, quickly leaping into the world of automobiles and airplanes as well. Blaise was a technology whiz and he made sure everyone who worked for MNZ knew their way aroundvarious electronics as well. After I purchased the townhouse, he insisted we needed security but I commented that it would be waste, indicting that he and I would buy a home for ourselves before too long.

What a fool I had been. Money was no object to people like Blaise and I should have let him wire the whole house. Maybe the cameras would have caught the perpetrator in the act. Maybe I wouldn't be hiding out but grieving, as I should be, in my own home with my friends and family.

Tears have fallen from my lashes while I was deep in thought and I wipe them away, tilting my chin up and staring defiantly at the small but cozy kitchen. I know I can't stay here any longer, not when I can find a way to unmask the real villain. Even if the possibilities are slim and the odds next to nothing, I am going to at least try to figure everything out - find where everything has gone so terribly wrong.

But first - I can't stay here. For one it holds too many memories - too many wistful moments that I have remembered and then wept over. And second - I need help. I can't do this alone, even with the many missions and experiences I have under my belt. This is something out of my league entirely.

My assignments have all been cut and dry - get in, find the target and eliminate them, and get out. I don't ask questions because I know the extent of every case and the justified reasoning behind each of the operations. I'm not the mastermind behind stealthy investigating and covert reconnaissance.

Wearily getting to my feet, I really should have been working out while I was confined for these seven days - my joints and muscles are stiff from sitting too long, I slide my wand down my forearm and wordlessly begin pulling all the shades and tidying up the rooms. I'm erasing my magical signature as I move along in the off chance that somebody does find this place. It has to look like I was never here.

After packing the small bag of the few possessions I managed to bring with me, I shrink the satchel and deposit it in my pocket. My fingers automatically button up my charcoal jacket and I inhale unsteadily as I stop in front of the door. Once I leave, there's no coming back. I will see this to the end or I will die, more likely thrown in Azkaban, trying.

I swiftly grab the doorknob before I can stop myself, step over the open threshold, and pull the door shut behind me. Exhaling heavily, I close my eyes to picture my destination. With all luck he'll be home and I won't be subjected to waiting around like a stray cat on his doorstep.

With a soft pop of Apparation I disappear from the small beach cottage and am traveling through space and time to another part of the country and an entirely different welcome.

**D/G**

While he was lathering his greasy blonde locks with shampoo, Draco had remembered that a tracking spell had been placed on a simple silver ring that Blaise had given Ginny. He feels stupid for not thinking of it before now but he can only hope his lapse in judgment will not cost them in the long run. As soon as he's dried from the shower and dressed he is navigating the hallways of Malfoy Manor and leaping down the stairs until he reaches the ground floor and his office at the end of the south wing.

Blaise had told Ginny at some point about the spell but Draco doubted that she remembered it now, giving him a glimmer of hope that she still had the ring on and was plottable to him. The thick wooden doors slam shut behind him and he is already half way across the room and reaching for a long scroll tucked haphazardly at the end of a messy row on the bookshelf behind his desk. His fingertips wrap around the cotton fabric and he pulls it out of its wedging, the material feeling softer, more worn from its many uses.

After unrolling the rectangular length, Draco lays it across his desk and narrows his gaze as he studies the intricate map. The fabric holds an enchantment designed to find someone through anynumber of ways. Draco found it among his father's possessions when Lucius passed and he had since found it very useful. Its abilities, though, were a secret from his friends; he dare not tell them that his greatest asset to the company was because of a magicked scroll that he had foundamong Dark artifacts. Because of this strip of average looking material Draco is able to swiftly locate his persons of interest and successfully close many private investigations. His skills of persuasion and smooth talking often help seal the deals but he learned long ago that no one could make it in this world on their own.

His long, thin fingers smooth out the creases around the edges of the map and he exhales slowly as he mentally puts the pieces of the spell together. Its an old Latin phrasing that Blaise had recited from a worn book, confident that the spell would be able to find Ginny no matter where she was - as long as she was wearing the ring.

That small lynchpin, the chance that she had taken off the ring or it had been forcibly removed from her finger, brings a dribble of doubt into his thoughts and Draco momentarily doubts that he will find Ginny. Solving this mystery can only be accomplished with her insight and beyond all else he needs to find her so they can imprison the real murderer.

Draco stands up straight and pulls his wand out as a precaution. With his emotions running so high it would not do for him to foul this up by not properly channeling his magic when he has the means. Repeating the phrase to himself, he stares without blinking at the map. Clearing his mind, he focuses on Ginny - locating Ginny - and begins to verbally repeat the spell. His wrist flicks in time to the words and the fabric seems to shimmer as his voice drops off.

A red haze shrouds the markings of the map, covering every line and city name until he cannot see anything other than the mist. Slowly the cloud begins to condense, the color deepening as it pulls itself smaller and smaller until it is just a pulsing dot hovering in one location.

Draco stares, dumbfounded, at the map.

It can't be right. He must have reversed the phrasing.

It says she's there - at Malfoy Manor.


	6. The Other Man

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Six - The Other Man**

**.**

_"Well, well, Draco - look what we have here."_

_The silky voice was taunting and immediately stilled Ginny's hand, the tip of her pen hovering over the forms she was filling out. It was her first day, the first hour still, at her new job and she had hoped against all odds that she would not run into any of the three namesakes of the company. Apparently she was lucky enough to garner two of their attentions at once._

_She didn't move but could hear the pair of wizards walking closer, she could faintly see them in her peripheral. She could see their tall, lean frames, Draco's platinum hair a halo atop his head while Blaise was a contrasting streak of delicious cocoa beside him. Her nerves jumped on end and she waited for them to say something else, anxiousness creeping in as they remained silent yet moving closer._

_"It seems the owl drug in a little treat for us," Blaise stated and his voice sounded close to her ear, his light breath faintly warming her neck as she involuntarily broke out in goose bumps._

_"More than a treat -" Draco's deep, rich voice responded, his tone excited as she felt his eyes greedily absorb her appearance. "The one and only Weaslette."_

_Ginny couldn't stand it - the way the nickname just rolled off his tongue, the word dripping with barely concealed desire - she jerked her head up and narrowed her eyes into slits, earning twin smirks from the men as they straightened their stances in front of her. The classroom style of the small room lent them an air of authority as she remained seated at one of the wooden and Blaise seemed to find the setting amusing, one or the other folding their arms over their chest or crossing their ankles as they leaned back on another chair._

_"I hope you don't expect me to call you both 'sir' now," Ginny offhandedly remarked, her teeth mashing together to keep the sneer from twisting her lips. This was her first day and she wanted to make a good - better - impression._

_Blaise chuckled, the sound echoing melodiously as Draco's mouth drew a deeper smirk across his face._

_"Now where would the fun be if you didn't?" Blaise retorted, challenging her spunk as one dark eyebrow arched._

_"Oh I can imagine we could find all sorts of - _fun_ with this one, don't you, Blaise?" Draco rhetorically asked before Ginny could respond and the pointed look they shared did all sorts of things to melt her insides and scramble her shocked brain._

_Her mouth hung open, no words escaping her lips, as she stared between the two of them. They smirked in tandem, something she found annoyingly irresistable, giving her a lusty once-over,and wordlessly walked out of the room. Ginny felt her cheeks heat up as her eyes watched them go and the pen fell to the wooden desk with a slight noise that went unheard by the room's only occupant._

_She had easily expected harassment when she took this job. But Ginny certainly had not guessed that it would come in the form of sexual harassment._

**D/G**

Draco's heart is pounding in his chest. His ears do not hear anything but the roar of white noise as he unblinkingly stares at the pulsing red dot. 'Malfoy Manor' is scrawled just above the crimson light, confirming his first thought.

He knew he had said the spell correctly. The map's error free history is testimony to that and he freezes, his head swimming in a million different directions as every single nerve ending in his body stands on end. He feels like every cell and molecule is attempting to break free of the sudden panic, his skin flushing and becoming clammy in a flash. His head is ready to burst, his vision already wavering with small ripples, and Draco presses both hands down on either side of the cloth, his shoulders hunching forward as he breathes slowly through his nose.

Ginny is here. Here at Malfoy Manor. She's here.

Anxious panic turns into a more stressful panic, a vein bulging in his neck as he rapidly jerks his head up.

"Armando!" Draco yells for the head House elf.

"Armando!" He repeats a bit more desperately.

A slight crack of Apparation announces the creature's arrival and Draco snaps his gaze sideways to look at the fairly young elf, clad only in a discarded toddler's formal vest. Armando's bulbous pale yellow eyes are flat as he folds his knobby hands behind his back.

"Master Malfoy, what can Armando do for you?"

Draco leans forward so far his hips press against the blunt edge of the wooden desk.

"Where is Miss Weasley?" He says in a strained voice, his composure barely held together even through the tight words.

"Armando was not aware that the Misses Weasley was at the Manor," the elf responds without the hint of fear that this particular mood usually inspires in the elves.

"Ginny is here," Draco replies tersely, his words clipping as one eyebrow twitches with anxiety. "Find her. Now."

Armando nods once. "Yes Master. Armando will find the Misses."

The pop of Apparation does nothing to soothe his nerves this time and Draco is instantly rounding his desk, his hands gripped firmly behind his back as he begins pacing. He could very well go look for Ginny but the fear that she would run, unsure of his loyalties, kept him from searching himself. A pang of anger grabs his chest, his heart already knowing that Ginny would never do that to him - she knew where his loyalties lied and how much she meant to him.

No. She's here at the Manor because she knows he will help her - that he will do anything for her. Ginny knows that Draco will stand by her side and be taken down in whatever plot is being prepared for her.

Moreover, Draco knows he can't go hunt her down because of how he is reacting now. How quickly his heartbeat has sped up and how shallowly he is breathing. If he had hurried to find her location on the property he would have erupted with pure joy and ecstasy at seeing her - he would have been too worked up to reign in his emotions and keep her from realizing how truly glad he is that she is still alive and not under the Ministry's hold. Or in worse hands.

The methodical walking, the back and forth, back and forth, calms his nerves slightly but he formulates what he hopes is a reserved expression as he slows his strides. While he has been moving he is counting the seconds tick by, the giant clock across the room echoing loudly in the silent room. Draco catches his reflection in the glass pane of a display cabinet and he stops,nervously running his hands through his hair to perfect its appearance. At that notion he runs his palms over his shirt and down the length of his thighs, his touch wordlessly steaming the wrinkles and removing any lingering lint. The lines on his face he will have to live with, the frown marring his lips sliding back into a neutral expression.

_It shouldn't have taken him this long_, Draco thinks as he spares a glance towards the enormous clock and its never ending ticking. The large face jolts a thought into his head and he is walking towards the fireplace to Floo call Monique, ready to tell her that she has to order a specialty clock like the one the Weasleys have in the Burrow indicating everyone's whereabouts, when Armando pops back into the home office. Draco spins around, his heart already lodged in his throat, and his breathing catches as he rapidly finds the House elf and the struggling witch in his tight hold.

"Armando has found the Misses Weasley," he announces dully, his large eyes poking around the side of Ginny's left hip.

Ginny, seemingly realizing that she is not in any danger of being detained, freezes in the elf's strong grip and narrows her gaze on Draco.

"Thank you, Armando. That will be all," he says, his mercury stare locked on Ginny as she remains completely still.

The elf removes his hands from around her wrists and nods, taking a slight step backwards before disappearing with a pop of Apparation. Neither of them says a word - their eyes drinking in the sight of the other after a week's absence. They're both haggard, purple half moons under their tired gazes that testify of their grief and sorrow. Ginny looks a bit thinner than usual but the same could be said of Draco who is already considering pouring them each a glass of liquor.

"How are you?" He asks after a string of minutes have passed in heavy silence, his voice soft and concerned.

"I've been better," Ginny responds, managing to tug up one corner of her mouth in an attempt to smile. "And you?" She repeats, her eyebrows shooting up with honest questioning.

Draco sighs, his eyes dropping to stare at her scared hands as they twist nervously in front of gaze lifts to meets hers again before he speaks. "Honestly? It's been chaos - I haven't felt this beat up since that trip to Tokyo - and _that's_ saying something."

They each turn a slight smile at the reference and for a moment they're both lost in a memory that seems so distant now.

"And how is - everyone else?" Ginny hesitantly inquires, her shoulders locking as she braces for the worst.

"None of us think you did it, Gin," Draco rushes to console her worry. He takes a half step forward, as if to shorten the space between them, but stops as she visibly tenses further. "We know you could never - _would_ never kill Blaise -" he chokes out his best friend's name but recovers quickly "And they're - we're doing everything we can to prove them wrong."

"What have you gathered so far?" She questions, her interest piquing with his confession.

Draco drops his head, one hand raising to scratch the back of his neck as he sheepishly rubs the toe of his shoe into the carpet. "I'm not sure yet - I haven't seen anyone for a couple of days."

Ginny senses his shame, his thinly veiled, raw grief, and wraps her arms around herself out of habit. If she can keep her body still enough her emotions won't implode and turn her into a blubbering mess. Just the sight of Draco - his blonde hair tossed effortlessly, the pale skin peeking out of the open button of his oxford shit - is making her feel heady and off-balance, but he is also radiating a feeling of comfort and safety that she had not known since - everything happened. She wants to run into his arms, inhale that particular scent that is all Draco, and forget, if even for just a moment, that her world has been turned upside down.

A stabbing of guilt - embarrassment for looking at another man so soon - _this_ man in particular - rips at her heart but she ignores it. Because now that he is here - that she is there, in the flesh - the situation seems more real and she doesn't know which is scarier - the possibility of Azkaban at the end of this, or the thought of bringing someone she cares about down with her.

"I want to go - " Ginny blurts " I need to help."

"No," Draco states flatly, one more step bringing them that much closer.

She startles, her body going impossibly still as her stare morphs into a glare.

"Why not?"

"Because - if somebody recognizes you it will all be for nothing. I can't - we're not going to risk you being sent to Azkaban or St. Mungo's - or kidnapped and murdered at that."

"I _won't_ be seen!" Ginny nearly screams. She had put herself into exile for seven days and now the one person she hoped would understand, would help her find answers, is denying her the chance to make things right. "I _know_ what I'm doing, Draco. You don't have to babysit me and keep me locked away until you figure it all out."

One blonde eyebrow arches as if to wordlessly say 'oh really?', the hint of a smirk challenging her surety. Ginny may be spectacular at what she does within the company but she is also the newest member of their squad - Draco, Theo, and Pansy have years of experience whereas she only has a few handfuls of months. He is certain that she can help, that she will be useful, but her safety is balancing more precariously than anyone else's.

With two large strides across the room Draco is standing close enough to reach out and touch her. Ginny tilts her head back enough to stubbornly meet his crinkled gaze and unfolds her arms, her hands hanging limply at her sides.

"We do need your help -" Draco begins in a steadied voice. "But not with any chance of you being kidnapped and going away again." His gaze jumps back and forth between her golden flecked chocolate eyes and he tentatively grabs her right hand, his long fingers wrapping around her palm as he squeezes. "We have to be careful with how we handle this - none of us are safe now. Finding Blaise's murderer is our top priority - but so is keeping you a free citizen - not a fugitive."

Ginny releases his hand and rushes to wrap her arms around his chest, her face pressing into the front of his shirt as he, at first, haltingly holds her against him. The touch, the closeness is chilling but she suppresses the shivers that threaten at the first contact she has had with anyone else in one week's time. His words were exactly what she has been hoping to hear from someone besides herself and Draco's comforting presence and familiarity gives her a dose of calmness as she listens to the steady pounding of his heart.

A hand raises to stroke her back and he holds her tighter as she silently begins shaking with 's rough whispers soothe her nerves as she gradually stabilizes once more. "Everything's going to be fine. Everything will be alright. I promise you, Gin."

**D/G**

Auror Detective Sharalin Hightower has been pacing her office so much recently that she's surprised ruts haven't formed in the carpet. Her desk and every surface in the room are covered with papers, photographs, charts - you name it. The entire case was laid out before her but something was missing.

Besides Ginny Weasley of course.

The evidence was right there in front of her - she had surveyed the crime scene and the secondary scene at their home. Everything pointed to Ginny being responsible for the Hightower firmly believed that was true - the evidence couldn't lie, after all - but could someone like Ginny Weasley, who had everything going for her, just up and kill her lover?

Sharalin ran her hands down her stained black pants and paused, her leafy green eyes tiredly scanning the clutter she had created. Five years on the job and she had never come across a more frustrating case. All the papers and scrolls won't amount to anything if she can't find Ginny. And so far nothing has worked to track her location.

She had assembled a small team to constantly monitor all of the Apparation pinpoints across Britain, hoping that Ginny will eventually slip up and use her magic to travel, but nothing had changed in the several days since she sequestered the group of interns and trainees in a room and gave them their orders. Once they find her, the case proceedings can continue and Detective Hightower can move on to the promotion she's been waiting for. Once she cracked this murder wide open she would be on the golden train to her dream job.

"Ma'am!" The youngest wizard on the crackpot team, Stefan, busted open the office door and stood in the entryway, his almond shaped eyes wide as he nervously surveyed his boss's private quarters. "We found her!"

Sharalin unfolded her arms and took a large step forward, her stride picking up as she grabbed her Auror robes on her way out of the office.

"Where?" She promptly asks in return, brushing past Stefan as he follows her down narrow hall to their tracking center.

"She - uh - she only showed up for a second," Stefan stuttered. "We don't think sh-she - we don't think she Apparated by herself, ma'am."

"What do you mean?" Sharalin barked. "Did she Side-Long? Could you tell who she was with?"

They turned a corner and Stefan seemed to shrink away from her as she stopped in front of a nondescript door, her narrowed gaze turning on him.

"Th-that's the thing - ma'am - we first saw her signature a-a-appear in Scotland. But then - it - it moved over to London then Wiltshire and Dublin." Stefan tensed, waiting for her verbal assault. It had only been a week but already the young witches and wizards knew to fear her wrath.

"Where is she now?" Sharalin tightly questioned, her patience having disappeared with all traces of Ginny Weasley.

"She - uh - her signature was still bouncing around when I left the room," Stefan admitted, his smooth cheeks flushing with embarrassment for not saying as much before. "We think someone is - we think someone is cloaking her signature so that we can't trace her exact location."

Sharalin bit down on her bottom lip, nearly drawing blood, as she glared at the intern. She had told them not to disrupt her unless it was an emergency or they found Ginny Weasley.

"Continue to watch the map," she instructed carefully. "Every time she moves freeze the frame and copy down the coordinates. Alert me as soon as it stops moving."

Sharalin is already striding back down the hallway to her office by the time Stefan squeaks out a "Yes ma'am." He slammed the door into the tracking room shut behind him, a quick whirl of chatter and machinery escaping, and she does the same as she enters her private space once more.

With any luck, the next time she leaves that room will be to assemble several teams to send into the field to find Ginny Weasley. But for some reason Detective Hightower seriously doubts that will be the case.


	7. Birthday Choices

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.  
**

******This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.  
**

**Chapter Seven - Birthday Choices**

**A/N: I have changed the name of the company to MNZ Ventures. All previous chapters have been amended as well.**

**.**

This may have been a worse decision than running in the first place.

Every hallway she turned down, every room she entered - held some sort of memory of Blaise. She heard his laughter more, here at Malfoy Manor, than she ever had in those seven days at the beach cottage. It had only been a handful of hours but already Ginny felt herself slowly suffocating here.

There were reminders of the parties they had thrown and the galas they had attended, all in the ballroom on the first floor. The library - just walking by the aged wooden double doors had been a tease. Ginny had felt a pull towards the expansive room with its row upon rows of shelves, the hidden room at the back and the darkened corners. She had a sensation of deja-vu as Draco led her towards the main staircase, his melodic words drowning out as she paused to stare at a large portrait whose occupant was staring directly at her.

Sir Cornelius Malfoy's portrait was actually a doorway into a windowless parlor where rumor has it he entertained his mistresses during his time as Lord of the Manor in the early nineteenth century. A small but adequately equipped room where she and Blaise had often snuck of to when an event or a boring meal had turned dry. Her cheeks heated up but she was all ears as Draco came to stand beside her, his concerned gaze looking to where she was staring. He had been kind, wordlessly attributing her spaciness for shock, and gently held her elbow as he maneuvered them up the stairs and to a bedroom just across the hall from his own. It was not the usual quarters that he had often housed her and Blaise in when they stayed over but Ginny reasoned that Draco probably just wanted to keep her close right now.

He had hugged her briefly, his spicy and heady scent clouding her mind momentarily, and kissed her forehead, wishing her sweet dreams before he walked ten yards to the Master suite. And Ginny had been sitting on the plush but stiff chaise lounge chair ever since. The moon had risen to take the place of the sun and still she was sitting, her back as straight as a board and her eyes staring unblinkingly ahead.

She could not get around the sudden change, the shock of moving ahead and making progress for her case - for her innocence. Draco promised that they would figure it all out but the doubts plagued her mind, the what if's lingering and whispering in her ear. Everything had shifted so suddenly, her world turning upside down so quickly - Ginny was still reeling from the shock, how could anyone expect her to be completely coherent?

The scared eleven year old little girl made her appearance as Ginny pulled her legs against her chest and pressed her forehead to her knees. She felt like her mind was cracking in two and everything she thought she knew was becoming secrets and lies. Blaise was gone - dead and long gone - and there was no one there to clean up her mess but her. A horrible mess that she had not created but was responsible for clearing up. She shook with silent sobs, her eyes dry as she squeezes the pale lids shut.

How can she ever repair the damage that has been done to her reputation? Moreover, how can she find the strength to fight the good fight when she can't even forgive herself for whatever role she had in Blaise's death?

**D/G**

_Her birthday fell exactly one month from the day that she started at MNZ Ventures. That August had started out with record temperatures but Ginny didn't let that deter the anxiousness she felt for the impending party her new "co-workers" were planning for her special day. _

_The past thirty days had been a roller coaster of daily surprises and constant surveillance. Her trainer and temporary mentor, De'mond, was a strict instructor and he kept at her, and the other six trainees, until she got her every task right. Ginny had quickly learned that her new "job" was much more than what she was lead to believe and as such, the company as a whole was a completely different business than what she expected. But as how every change in life should be handled, she had welcomed the challenge with enthusiasm. _

_It had become rapidly apparent that Ginny was more adept at the training methods and techniques than De'mond himself and throughout the required first month of training he usually let her demonstrate fighting positions and spell work. In that time she too often looked up from a lecture or a physical practice session to find Draco or Blaise, or both, standing in the doorway watching her. She heated under their inscrutable stares, their eyes trailing the beads of sweat down the mountains of her breasts or gazing at the lines of her body. Ginny never admitted to anyone, let alone Pansy who had made it her personal mission to weasel personal information out of her, that she harbored a very sheltered desire for both men - with their penetrating stares and lithe bodies they were easily the most sought after bachelors in Britain. _

_But she had bigger things to worry about than her romantic life - she was beginning the search for her own home while juggling this new, sleek employment. Stressing over a surprise birthday party was just icing on the cake. And while Pansy had repeatedly mentioned celebrating the completion of her training and not her birthday, Ginny decided either way it would be best for her to leave unnoticed and stay tucked in for the night. _

_After she went to George and Luna's for a simple dinner and bottle of wine, that is. _

_Ginny should have seen it coming but she cluelessly walked right into their trap anyways. Of course Pansy had conspired with Luna to organize a party. And of course Ginny didn't question her best friend when she suggested they have their customary birthday meal at home instead of going out. All the signs had been there for her to see but she was still completely shocked when the front door to George's flat opened to reveal her brother, her best friend, and her new co-workers waiting for her arrival. _

_"Happy birthday!" They all shouted at once, her pulse quickening and her breathing shortening as her wide eyes took in the pinkened cheeks of several who were well into celebrating already. _

_"Don't be mad!" Luna rushed to say as she wrapped her arms around a stock still Ginny. "We know you hate your birthday," the blonde whispered in her ear rapidly "but we all love you and wanted to celebrate." Luna pulled back, her dainty hands gripping Ginny's upper arms as she dazzled a knowing smile. "Even if we have to do it for you." _

_Anxiously glancing over her best friend's shoulder Ginny saw the eager, if not slightly drunk, faces of everyone else. Theo was holding a smug looking Pansy on his lap while Draco and Blaise stood close together, whispering rapidly as their eyes ogled her. Though when she noticed the crystals glass in their hands, full of a shimmering amber liquid, she dismissed the justified notion that they were actually checking her out. What was more of a challenge to two defiant Slytherins than the female Weasley - especially when they were drinking? _

_"You really didn't have to," Ginny pushed her words together as she turned back to Luna, her eyes narrowed into slits and her lips pressed thin to wordlessly convey her unease. _

_"Pssh posh," Pansy countered flippantly, jumping up from Theo's lap and striding across the room. "If we can't celebrate your birthday can we at least have a party?" The question was not stated nearly as such and Ginny felt the butterflies in her stomach bolt up through her chest as the dark haired witch smirked devilishly. _

_"Come on," Pansy urged as she slipped her hand around Ginny's elbow and forced her to walk farther into the room. "Let's not keep your guests waiting - come see everyone." _

_Ginny pleadingly stared at Draco and Blaise, silently begging them to intercede as Pansy walked her through the living room to the spacious kitchen. Both men chuckled lightly at her irrational panic and happily watched her go, their gazes drawing down the shape of her body until the pair moved out of sight. _

_Only half a dozen or so employees from MNZ were accounted for and Ginny let out a small breath when she recognized Colin, Neville, Seamus, and the Patil twins hanging back from the business dressed witches and wizards. Immediately she wiggled away from Pansy's grasp and nearly ran over to her old friends. _

_"Here she is -" Colin announced dramatically, his lips turning up in a smile as their quiet conversations stopped. "We can quit worrying that we were lured here as food for the snakes."_

_The other four laughed easily and Ginny grinned, tucking herself into their little circle. "I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't come for that reason alone. I would have thought the same thing too if Pansy Parkinson invited me anywhere." _

_"Bu' sha's ya co-worka nah," Seamus commented in his thick accent. "Surela ya twa eh chummee nah."_

_"I wouldn't say that exactly," Ginny laughed in response, casually glancing over her shoulder to where Pansy was straightening several dishes of finger foods before darting over to the oven as a timer beeped. "But she's not so bad," she finished, turning back to the group with a small smile. _

_She asked everyone how they were doing and besides the most recent event, Dean Thomas had finally proposed to Padma two days before, they all stated that their jobs were the same and everything else was uneventful. Colin was loudly reiterating a story about his last trip to New Zealand, something about the natives not liking his shiny camera, when Neville nudged Ginny's shoulder and ducked his head close to her face. _

_"I think you have some admirers," he said with an amused chuckle, nodding to their left as Ginny followed his gaze. _

_Draco was leaned against the doorway that led into the dining room and Blaise was propped up against the edge of the adjacent counter, his arms crossed over his chest so the muscles coiled tightly. Sensing her attention on them Blaise grinned widely at her and almost imperceptibly jerked his head sideways. Draco spun around and disappeared into the darkness of the unoccupied room and Blaise let his arms drop as he rotated to stand facing her, his feet moving backwards as he kept eye contact with her until he too gave way to the shadows. _

_A tangled ball of nerves was lodged in her gut and Ginny was clearly frozen to the spot. She didn't know what to do - the wizard's slight advances had become more apparent in the days following her hiring, and she had little doubt that they still harbored any resentment towards her from their youth, but did she feel the same way? Was she interested in pursuing some sort of - relationship or agreement with the two wizards? _

_One foot stepped in front of her without her realizing it and Ginny startled when her body rocked forward, the weight shift waking up her foggy consciousness. Getting involved with Draco and, or Blaise was clearly not a good idea, especially since they were now her bosses, but the possibility of learning the nature and extent of their interests in her was too tempting to pass up. After all, they could just be wanting a few minutes alone to discuss her position within the company and what her job would now be. _

_Yes - that was what they wanted to talk to her about - the completion of her training and what she would do now. How stupid she was to assume they meant to arouse a sexual chemistry between them. _

_Glancing sideways to hesitantly smile at the group of friends who were still listening to Colin ramble, Ginny caught Neville's gaze and squeezed his forearm. He returned the expression and nodded encouragingly, giving her the final push she needed. _

_Turning back to the darkened archway, Ginny walked through the kitchen and towards the dining room where Draco and Blaise were waiting to talk business. Assuming anything else would only bring back her wad of anxiety and Ginny was already having enough trouble swallowing the idea of being alone in the same room as two deliciously sexy, and completely forbidden, wizards without thinking about how they were most likely going to pounce on her as soon as she entered the room. _

_Yes - all they wanted to talk to her about was business. _

**D/G**

Ginny awoke in a familiar bed. The pillows were plush, the mattress was soft, and the sheets felt warm everywhere she kicked her legs underneath the thick layers. She rolled over and inhaled the heady generic scent of expensive laundry detergent and though the smell was not the same as the brand she used, it brought a feeling of comfort and somehow she subconsciously knew she was at Draco's.

The emptiness of a large bed was something that she had not gotten completely comfortable with but she was used to it by now, whether or not she truly believed the white lie that Blaise was just gone for a mission that she had been telling herself every morning until she was forced to come back to reality. The first flashes of memories wetted her eyes but the tears were blinked away as she stared across the bed to the opposite wall.

So many times she and Blaise had stayed in this room. She always remarked that the room was perfectly colored for them - a deep red adorning the walls while a chrome silver accented the decorations and bed ware. A little piece of both of them that made the guest bedroom feel a bit more homey.

Ginny bolted upright.

This wasn't right. She wasn't staying in this suite. Nor had she fallen asleep in this bed. She distinctly remembered blankly staring at the neutral cream bed spread in the other bedroom and wondering if Narcissa had stayed in that room since she had left her permanent residence at the Manor.

But how then had she ended up on the opposite end of the east wing?

Without lifting the covers she knew all of her clothing was still in place. Even the silk slippers she had been wearing were still covering her feet.

It made no sense. She had no history of sleepwalking - even though _that _would have made sense after everything she had been through - and she most definitely would have woken up if Draco, or anyone for that matter, had picked her up and carried her several hundred meters.

Ginny fluidly slipped out from underneath the blankets, her eyebrows raising as she noticed her wand on the nightstand next to the bed. There wasn't time for her to dawdle and think about how this could have happened. Grabbing the familiar piece of maple wood, she wordlessly straightened the bed to look like she had not slept there and muffled her footsteps before she quickly crossed the room and reached for the doorknob.

The clock on the nightstand had read 6:17 but Ginny hoped luck would be on her side and Draco hadn't woken up yet. He tended to be up early for work and she knew today would be treated no different with her presence in the Manor. A long, plush runner carpeted the hardwood floors of the long hallway but still she carefully tiptoed and stopped before every corner in the chance that she would run into someone.

Two short minutes felt like an hour as she made her way back towards her intended bedroom, not a soul in sight and nary a noise - until she reached the ending of the hallway where the Master suite resided. Loud, bass thumping music was pouring through the cracks of Draco's door and Ginny took a second to pause, placing the music as something he liked to listen to when he was preparing for something big, before tentatively stepping into the middle of the hallway. She took three steps and was halfway to her own door when suddenly the music stopped. Her heart leaped into her throat and her body went completely still.

Ginny could hear Draco shuffling around, his footsteps growing louder until she knew he was standing in front of his door, about to walk out. Not a leaving another second to chance, she bolted for her bedroom and rushed through the doorway. The lock had just clicked into place when she heard Draco open his bedroom door. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears she had to press the side of her face against the wooden frame to strain to hear him walk past her door, her eyes squeezed shut as she silently prayed he didn't stop to check on her.

Draco kept moving and Ginny slid down the wall as soon as the coast was clear. With her hands holding her head, her brain pounding from an oncoming headache, she let her shoulders slump forward as, for the first time in too many days, tears sprung to her eyes - not from grief or despair but from a sadness she had not felt in many months.

Ginny wasn't sure who she was anymore and with everything that was happening to her, she couldn't say for certain that she was the person everyone thought she was. A piece of her sanity had died with Blaise and now, slowly but surely, the rest of it seemed to be going as well.

**D/G**

_The plaster wall was cold against her back, a fact that did not register in her brain as all of her attention was focused on the two men in front of her, both angled and pressing against her body so that she could not move. _

_But why would Ginny want to do that? Even though she was frozen in shock, she felt every muscle, every inch of toned skin pressed up against her. Draco and Blaise seemed to wear the same cologne, or complimenting scents, and that smell alone was clouding her judgment as their respective hip bones jutting against her stomach kept her in place. Their words were synchronized too and she fought to focus on their voices as they finished each other's sentences. _

_"We've had one month to appraise you -" Blaise began. _

_"And so far - there is room for improvement." Draco lightly ran a finger down her jawline and she involuntarily shivered. He smirked when he noticed her slight grimace for exposing her emotions. _

_"We would like to see you -"_

_"Do more - fight - spar more. Your body -"_

_"Is perfection and to see it in motion is -"_

_"Breath-taking." Blaise leaned in close enough for his own breath to warm the shell of her ear and Ginny ground her teeth while clenching her hands to keep from reaching up and pulling him closer. _

_"But during that time, we have also taken an interest in you," Draco said. _

_"A very _personal _interest -"_

_"And now it is up to you to decide." _

_Ginny gazed from one pair of eyes to the other. Were they completely serious? _They _wanted _her? _She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming because this certainly felt like something similar to what she had woken up from just a few nights ago. Sure she had noticed their 'interest' in her over the past few weeks but she didn't think it would present itself in such a blunt fashion. _

_"Decide?" She repeated lamely. _

_Identical smirks bloomed and Blaise brushed the tip of his nose next to her ear, just streaming down the side of her face. _

_"Yes, love - decide what you want to do."_

_"To do?" Her inability to completely comprehend what they were implying left her repeating their words as a question, her voice sounding vapid and daft to own her ears. _

_But there was nothing left to question as Blaise lightly pressed the tips of his fingers against her jawbone, deftly turning her face to him as his lips descended upon hers. Ginny forgot everything else as her mind tried to process everything that was happening. His kiss was measured while still maintaining a bit of force as his tongue slipped inside her mouth as she gasped softly. _

_Before she could begin to respond, her body knowing a physical chemistry at once, before Ginny could even think about what implications could come from this - Blaise pulled back, stepping away completely so that she could no longer feel his warmth. The taste of something sweet, like candy, was left in her mouth and her nostrils could only smell his signature scents of ripe mangos and musky man. Ginny dazedly found his crinkled gaze, her eyes blinking slowly, and her lips parted to stutter out a few words when Draco stepped in front of her and suddenly pressed his body against hers. _

_Ginny was forced to turn her attention on the blonde wizard before her and his penetrating stare left her brain frazzled as he lightly cupped the side of her face. She had never seen Draco Malfoy up close and now she had a long moment to study the face of the man who had once sent her fuming from any room he walked in to. Ginny would never have guessed that underneath all of his hard exterior was someone eager to be loved but that was what she saw in the depths of his gaze as he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. _

_When his head tilted and his neck slowly craned, she did nothing to stop his forward movement and nearly sighed with relief the moment his lips touched hers. _

_Of the two, Ginny knew Blaise was the wizard who was soft and caring, only putting up a serious front when he needed to. Draco was as predictable now as he had been at Hogwarts, albeit his motives and actions had dramatically changed since the war, and he was still as snarky and stubborn as ever. But as she compared their kisses - the way their full but entirely different lips moved over her own, Ginny was surprised to realize that their personalities betrayed their touch on a woman. _

_Draco backed away as suddenly as Blaise had and again she was left breathless and dazed as the two men stared at her, smirks on their faces to match their gloating expressions. Ginny saw Draco's, then Blaise's, lips move but it took a moment for their voices to fade into her fuzzy hearing as she glanced between the two. _

_" - it is up to you." _

_She let a long minute pass while their eyebrows rose higher and their faces became more and more expectant. _

_"Wh-what?" Ginny finally stuttered. _

_"He said -" Draco reiterated, his voice going falsely high as he attempted to sarcastically reprimand her with his tone. "That the decision is yours."_

_"About what?" Ginny asked, her speech slow as she waited for them to spell it out for her. No way was she going to make a fool of herself by misinterpreting what they were proposing. _

_"Us." Blaise replied simply, an eager grin turning up his perfect lips. _

_"Huh?" She ineloquently retorted. _

_Blaise chuckled at her adorable confusion and Draco shook his head humorously. _

_"Of course - if you don't want to choose -" Draco took a step closer so that the edges of his clothing brushed her chest and Blaise copied his movements, Ginny sufficiently trapped up against the wall once more. "You can always have us both."_

_She swore they could hear her gulp by the way their eyes glinted with mischief and Ginny fought to control herself as their presences surrounded her. Completely speechless, her eyes widened and her mouth feel open, their drugging kisses leaving them plump. _

_"We're not adverse to each other in that way - if that's what you're thinking," Blaise commented with a smirk. _

_Ginny wasn't really thinking anything at that moment. Her brain was struggling to process what they had said - and the brief kissing - and each and every detail of what had happened since she had walked out of the kitchen. Their proposal, the decision they were giving her, was swirling in the forefront of her thoughts and as if to prove what he had just insinuated, Blaise grabbed the back of Draco's neck and pulled their faces together. _

_Her surprised gaze focused on the lips that moved as if they intimately knew the other, a pale hand reaching up to splay against a creamy column of mocha skin as she watched the two men. It only took a moment for their tongues to become involved and Ginny felt her nether regions pulse with desire as Draco and Blaise sucked face as if they couldn't get enough of each other. Then as suddenly as their kisses to her had ended, they pulled apart with deep grins and a shared knowing look. _

_Ginny shrunk back instinctively when they turned back to her. The hand that had caressed Blaise's neck fluttered across her cheek and Draco's smile softened as Blaise wrapped his long fingers around her palm. _

_"It is up to you," Draco repeated gently. "It is your door to open if you so choose to." _

_"And if not - if you decide not to accept our offer at all - there will be no repercussions for your job or your final placement," Blaise stated, capturing her attention as he nodded slowly, his gaze compelling her to believe him. _

_Ginny nodded quickly to convey that she understood. It was a hell of an idea to consider but she agreed that their business and personal lives should not interfere. Apparently both wizards took that to mean they had to keep any affairs under wraps and Ginny couldn't find it in herself to mind that two gorgeous men wanted her, under any circumstances._

_"Think about it," Draco said and they stepped away, their tall shadows moving out of sight as they soundlessly walked out of the room. She heard the hinges of a swinging door creak and she sagged against the wall, relief and disappointment flooding her now that she was alone. _

_This new life she had started sure was turning out to be full of changes and surprises._


	8. Happenstance

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Eight - Happenstance**

**.**

Her hair was hanging down her back in loose curls, bouncy and shiny after a recent shower. Her skin was scrubbed clean, pink and tender in some spots, and the freckles that normally stood out against her tanned complexion, darkened from the sun's rays, were like a dusting of cinnamon across her pale collarbones and forearms. There were still dark circles under her eyes, yes, but otherwise the caramel orbs gleamed with a teetering of emotions. Her slender hands trembled and she could barely keep her slight fingers from accidentally dropping things, her gaze downcast and her conversation minimal so that she was focused on not looking like a fool.

Draco drank in every detail of how Ginny looked, how she smelled, and how she was acting, and still it was not enough. Her grief and worry were palpable and he wished beyond everything else that he could ease her pain and end this mess once and for all. She was merely a shell of herself now and he hated to see her so withdrawn and cautious.

A hand raised to flick away an errant strand of bright copper, her head shaking almost imperceptively as her lips tightened.

"Would you like some more juice?" Draco politely asked, his ashen eyebrows arching with the question.

Still Ginny did not look up.

"No thank you."

A pang of unhappiness shocked his chest, his slate eyes narrowing, and he silently turned back to his own half-eaten plate. Could she not meet his gaze because she was afraid of what he would see there? Or were her adamant attempts to keep from looking at him her way of communicating that she was now uncomfortable around him?

Either way it didn't matter. After what he had done that morning, he was going to be pretty much the only company she would be keeping for a while. Ginny would have to get past her strange aversion to Draco or she would only hinder their investigation more than she already had.

When she made no apparent attempt to converse without prompting he exhaled loudly and let his fork drop loudly against the wooden table. His free hand rose to nervously run through his longish platinum locks and Draco dramatically hunched his shoulders forward. If he wanted to get her attention and get Ginny to actually _want_ to solve this case, he had to embellish his details while playing his first card just right.

Feeling her gaze on his profile, Draco spoke, his words ragged and cautious.

"I did something this morning - and . . . I'm not sure how to tell you - because I think I made a mistake."

In no way, shape, or form did he believe what he was telling her but Ginny needed to see the logic in his plan and find a way to fit herself into the scheme of things, while she also needed someone, _something, _to cling onto that she knew needed her as well.

Draco peeked a quick glance at her and nearly turned to stare, her heart shaped face finally visible as she looked at him with an unfocused curiosity.

"Wha'd you do?" Ginny breathed in response and he struggled to not widely grin at her quick interest.

"I Floo called Monique before you came downstairs -" he paused, scrunching his hand in his hair as if in frustration. "I told her -" he inhaled heavily "I told her that I was going to the Northern Manor for a short holiday - so that I would still be in the country, though technically as far away from London as I can be in Britain. But I think it was all a mistake now - I may have been too rash."

Propping his head in his large palms, Draco rotated his neck to look at her and he unblinkingly stared as Ginny held his gaze.

"Why? Why would - why would you do that?" She haltingly asked, her fingers curled around a silver spoon in a bone white grip.

"I thought we could better find the real murderer if I wasn't expected to be at the company or some frivolous party or event every night." Draco dropped his head back down and looked away, false shame lending itself to his expression as he sighed thickly. "I didn't think about how it would isolate us from everyone else - how it would keep Pansy and Theo and George and Luna from taking time off so that they could assist in this matter. It will be suspicious enough that I - Blaise's best friend - am taking a holiday while you're still missing, let alone if the entire board of the company and all of your family up and disappear. You know as well as anyone else that it would look like we're all hiding something - and - and it is a risk I did not consider when I quickly decided on this plan."

"I didn't want to get you involved in this mess," Ginny minutely stated several long moments later, her voice just above a whisper as her golden eyes blurred with warm tears. "I didn't want to get anyone involved with this."

"Gin -" Draco reached a hand across the corner of the large table and squeezed her balled up fist that was still clutching the spoon. "We would all do whatever it takes to make things right. My mistake was in not considering how the others will be able to pick up my slack and keep their covers intact while also aiding us - my mistake was never in choosing to find and help you."

Ginny nodded absently, her head drooped against her chest again as she considered his words. As badly as it hurt to admit and ask for help she knew she had no other option now. Searching for answers by herself was suicide, every Auror and Muggle police officer would be looking for her and using any means necessary to find her. And although she did not want to risk her friend's lives for her own freedom, they were already proving that they believed in her enough to do so themselves.

She knew what loyalty and honor meant to Pureblooded families like the Malfoys, Parkinsons, and Notts - what it meant to her family - and they would not take it lightly if she disregarded their assistance. In such a situation as dire as this it would be regarded as a public slap in the face.

"If communicating with everyone else would put them in greater jeopardy -" Ginny let a small smile curve up her lips, her thoughts voicing themselves, "after all, I am still a fugitive -" the grin was quickly replaced by a frown and Draco squeezed her hand again but her head jerked up and her expression was guilt and shame intertwined, "You shouldn't be helping me. They'll ship you off to Azkaban too once they find out you're sheltering me."

Draco anticipated her next move and easily kept his grasp firm when she attempted to stand and move away from the table. Ginny's eyes flashed with anger but his hand slid up to her forearm and he lightly, none too gently since his hold was still strong, pulled her forward. She struggled once, trying to throw him off, but then, reluctantly, sat back down.

"I'm not going anywhere," he stated slowly, his even tone cleanly implying his honesty. "You're stuck with me now," Draco added with a quick, flashing grin.

Her eyebrows furrowed together and he kept his hand around her arm for several minutes as she halfheartedly glared at him. Ginny seemed to be battling with her thoughts, deciding how far she really wanted to trust him in such a precarious situation, and after a pregnant moment she spoke again.

"We'll have to do this alone - together - without communicating with anyone else," Ginny said in a strained whisper, as if someone were listening in on their conversation. "Alright?"

Draco nodded his head casually, his lips parting to speak but he was interrupted as she mused aloud, her words almost too faint to fully hear. "I won't have anyone else torn up in this horrific mistake."

Seeing her so broken up, even over the rapid decision to exclude their closest friends from certain harm, made it nearly impossible for him to not pull her into his arms and hold her tight. He maintained his composure and only expressed the nature of his feelings by sliding his hand down her wrist to intertwine their fingers. They were very much capable of figuring out this enormous puzzle on their own but the exclusion of so many who could accomplish the work even quicker was sure to be giving her a round of doubt for their combined abilities. He had to get her to see herself as he saw her - strong, fierce, and completely capable of solving any mystery set before her. And in doing so the woman he loved would return to them and they would be able to put this whole mess behind them.

Draco grasped her hand one last time and turned his lips up in a broad grin. Ginny was still staring pointedly at her lap but he needed her alert and focused on their goal. He retracted his touch and pushed back his chair, standing abruptly as the wooden feet dragged on the marble floor.

"Come on - we have to start somewhere," he prodded her, almost teasingly so that she wouldn't crawl back into her shell completely. "I have a couple things laid out in my office and I think its time we start looking at what path we should take first."

He had her attention now and though her lips were quivering slightly and her whole body seemed to be trembling lightly, she accepted the hand he offered her. Ready or not, Ginny and Draco were going to solve a murder.

**D/G**

Of the two options that he had come up with, this one was the greater of two evils in Ginny's mind. The first choice he had given her - to break into the Muggle forensics garage and examine her car - sounded much more appealing than the option he had waited eagerly to explain. Breaking and entering was a task she was good at, a teaching courtesy of Fred and George, but not when the place of interest was her own home. Not under these circumstances at least.

"Blaise installed some cameras around the house," Draco explained as he leaned over several blueprints of her townhouse. He had the decency to look sheepish as he added, "He probably hadn't mention them though."

Ginny folded her arms over her chest, her emotional armor falling back into place as an eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Don't you think the police would have found them?" She asked, her voice flat to match her nonplussed demeanor. No matter what he said, she was going to fight him tooth and nail to not have to go back into her home.

Draco grinned, his silver eyes twinkling with a secret that no one else knew.

"The Aurors would not have been able to detect any electronics because magic cannot be directly used on Muggle technology. And the police would not have found them because - Blaise cloaked them."

"He cloaked them?" Ginny repeated with a hint of incredulity.

"So to speak," Draco amended. He gestured back to the blueprints and one finger pointed at a space of wall facing the front door. "He placed small cameras within spelled objects. Here -" he tapped the drawing. "There is a painting on the wall here, yes?" Ginny nodded. "Blaise spelled a glass box invisible and placed a camera inside - it sits on the top corner of the painting, pointed directly at the front door. And here -" his finger moved across the paper to tap twice over the smaller back door. "He put another glass box on top of the mirror next to this door."

Ginny gulped as she realized what this new information meant. Draco was near frantic, his eyes wide and a grin keeping his lips stretched, and she could tell that he was two steps away from bouncing off the walls with excitement for the small lead.

"Blaise put them all over the first floor," Draco practically shouted with enthusiasm. She was somewhat surprised to see him so eager to work with his dreaded foes - technology and Muggle electronics. "If we can find them and download the - day-ta? - maybe we can find out if anything actually happened there."

She was silent for a moment, her gaze riveted to the blueprints as he anxiously stared at her. It wasn't a bad plan in all honesty - hell, it sounded like a walk in the park compared to some of the extremes she has taken for cases in the past - and her instincts got the better of her as she carefully thought about the realities and possibilities of this risky venture.

"Would Blaise have streamed the video feeds to a wireless source?" Ginny asked thoughtfully.

When he did not immediately answer, she glanced up. Draco was looking at her like he was literally at a loss for words and she could tell by his blank expression that he had absolutely no idea what she had just said.

A small smile turned up the corners of her lips as she explained in more basic terms. "Were the cameras sending their videos to a computer?"

Draco screwed up his face in a wonderfully funny expression as he thought about her question while carefully remembering the different Muggle technologies, gadgets, and their workings.

Finally he shrugged, his arms folding over his chest automatically as if in defense of his lack of an answer. "I'm not sure."

Feeling like she was back in her element, though the techy jargon had been pure luck, Ginny stared at the blueprints where certain pinpoints stood out to her. The cameras had been strategically placed and if they were lucky, and if the newspapers were right in their assumptions, they would be able to see who Blaise's killer was and find the initial crime scene in one trip. She didn't like the idea of seeing the sight of her lover's death even if it was inside her own home - mainly because that fact alone tore her up inside. If Blaise hadn't been safe in their home, how could she go back there and not expect for something to happen?

"And you're sure these cameras would have been undetectable to both authorities?" Ginny asked, emotion coloring her words with the palest hint of worry.

"Positive," Draco readily supplied. That secretive smile graced his lips again and he added, "Unless they were staring directly at the open end of the glass boxes - which I remind you are several feet taller than myself - they would not have seen them."

Ginny nodded once, her arms crossing over her chest, and fell into silence with a heavy air of contemplation. Finally, with her heart pounding against her sternum, she met Draco's anticipatory gaze and nodded again.

"Let's get this over with," she said and the grin that spilt his face hurt her welling of emotions with its deranged excitement and beauty.

**. : .**

The familiar street is hooded with shadows, random cars covered with blankets of fresh snow and the sidewalks littered with hurried footfalls. The frigid cold of late January is biting at my exposed flesh as soon as we Apparate to the once quaint Rose Road. My nose already feels like it is frozen and my breath is coming out in short puffy clouds. As if the cold matters now - all I can really feel is dread with a twinge of excited anticipation. Having Draco by my side always does that - the thrill of being on a mission seems that much more - thrilling. Probably because some part of me is still surprised and excited by our close friendship.

I glance sideways at him, my neck craning a bit so I can see the fuzzy outline of his face. His full lips are parted slightly and his molten eyes are jumping back and forth as he examines our surroundings. I should be doing the same, checking our position and making sure no one had seen our instant arrival, but I can only watch the wizard beside me as he surveys the cobbled road. His features are only vaguely familiar to me, as both of us are heavily glamoured to not look like ourselves, but the strong set of his jaw and the narrowing of his gaze is enough for me to recognize him under any disguise.

"Nothing's amiss -" Draco states rhetorically. He scans Rose Road once more then turns halfway to look at me. Barely a handful of seconds have passed and already I am being thrust into the thick of this 'mission'. "You ready?"

It's not really a question but I can immediately tell that he has only said that to give me a last ditch choice to go back and leave the investigating to him. His soft tone makes me think he is picking up on my raised levels of anxiety and I smile halfheartedly despite my fears and reservations about this endeavor.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

He initiates our planned rouse by sliding his arm through mine and stepping closer to me. In one motion we both turn to begin walking down the street, a young couple hurrying home to anyone who happened to see us. I lean in to him and his shoulder overlaps mine, lightly touching but enough so that I can feel the heat of his body through the single spot. My head ducks and I feel Draco twist, his weight pushing me to turn ninety degrees.

I look at the toes of my black knee high boots as we cross the recently plowed street. Draco begins humming a disorganized tune and I glance up at him as we step over the curb. Sensing my gaze he slows his gait and speaks in a low voice.

"Everything will be fine, Gin. The townhouse will be empty, we'll slip inside and find the cameras, and then we'll be out of there - back at the Manor."

I elbow in closer to him, sidestepping a protruding set of stairs, and reactively sigh. He could tell me everything would be fine until he was blue in the face and still I don't think it would ease my conscience.

"I know," I whisper back, forcing some hint of bravery into my tone. I can't help but to spill some of my thoughts though. "I'm just - I'm - nervous to go back there - to where he died."

"As soon as this is all over we'll find you a new place to live. You won't have to ever come back here if you don't want to."

Wordlessly I nod, knowing he is taking my silence for agreement.

All too soon Draco is stopping me and I know we've reached Number Twenty-Three. I turn with his movement and my downward gaze lands on the bottom two stairs leading up to the front door. Inch by inch I lift my head, each step slowly coming into view until my level eyesight is staring straight ahead at the bottom of the cherry red door. I suck in a breath and Draco braces beside me, his right arm pulling on my left so that the movement jostles me into his side a little more.

"Come on, Gin," he coaxes me gently. "There's no turning back now."

Nodding again, I waver for only a moment before lifting one foot and placing it on the first stair. Draco mimics my small steps and without realizing how many times we climb the short ledges, I glance up when my foot awkwardly keeps going instead of landing on another step. I should have felt the magical pull of the protective ward around the stoop, which hopefully rendered us invisible if Blaise's spells were still functioning, but I was too preoccupied with denying the truth of where we are. The red door is less than three feet in front of me and all too soon I'm backpedaling to get away from the looming doorway. It's the very last thing I should have done, we have some semblance of a cover to maintain after all, and though I instantly regret it, I can't stop myself from going backwards until my heels catch the edge and I briefly teeter unsteadily.

Draco is holding my arm in a tightening grip and before I can register the tumble I'm about to take back down the stairs, he yanks me forward and steps up to the door in one motion. His free hand waves in front of the lock and it clicks open. He grabs the silver handle and pushes, hauling me with him as we cross the threshold.

The door shuts firmly behind us; all I can hear is our heavy breathing and all I can see is shadows and memories. I hold it together as best I can but Draco must, once again, sense my unease because he removes our tangled arms to run a hand along my shoulders and then squeeze my right side comfortingly.

"Let's see if Blaise has managed to leave us evidence from his grave," he states with a sad trace of humor. I'm not sure what to say, whether to crack a lame joke too or just remain silent to match the sudden bubbling of grief, and instead take a tentative step forward towards the large painting adorning the opposite wall.

Draco is matching my steps until we are both right next to the gilded frame of the long, rectangular painting. My eyes dart across the beautiful scenery, a flash of a memory from when Blaise and I had bought it playing in my head, and I smile despite myself at the picturesque coastal depiction of the White Cliffs of Dover. Draco reaches an arm up to run across the top of the painting and I'm pulled from the brief reverie, his toned body inching closer and closer until his shoulder has to wedge between the canvas and my chest.

My head tilts up and I take a small step backwards, mostly to distract myself from inhaling Draco's mind numbing scent, while his broad palm skims down the length of the frame in search of the nearly invisible camera. If we find this first one then it is almost certain that the others will have been untouched as well. If we can gather all of the cameras - we could potentially find out who Blaise's killer was.

My stomach churns at the possibility and as if to reinforce my anxieties Draco bounces backwards on the balls of his feet as he shouts 'Yes!', his right hand drawn into a fist. He turns to face me, his gaze solely on the invisible object in his hand, and carefully pinches the sides of the box. He shakes it several times and then a small black item falls into his palm. He tosses the glass container aside and I hear the box lightly shatter against the hard wood floors, my eyes fixed on the minute camera even as he looks at me with a megawatt smile.

"This is it, Ginny - we've got the cameras, now we can find the real murderer."

His excitement would have been contagious if a knotting of unease hadn't settled in my stomach. As it is, I force a tepid smile that he can barely see and remain focused on the camera.

"You think they will still work?" I ask casually, my head snapping up to meet his gaze with a hopeful expression falsely plastered on my face. Maybe one of these days my outward demeanor will match my internal thoughts - just not yet, not today.

"Let's hope so," Draco responds enthusiastically. His mercury eyes are nestled between crinkling lines and they dart back and forth between my own before he looks down at the first camera. "I didn't understand a word of what you said earlier - and I've been thinking -" He glances up and my chest constricts in a vise grip for a second as he penetrates me with that molten gaze again, so eager and excited. "I know a guy - a tech guy -" My eyebrows shoot up and Draco pauses, laughing slightly as his expression turns sheepish. "He's a Muggle," he adds reassuringly, as if the thought of him having a secret partnership with a Muggle puts me at ease - but a small smirk turns up my lips in silent retort for what I won't say in response. "He'll be able to hook up the cameras and look through videos or - whatever."

It will save us time if someone else can figure out how to finagle the data off of the cameras but I'm hesitant to let an outsider - a Muggle at that - into our sleuthy fold. With as high profile a case as this is, how can we fully trust this guy to not run and blab about our whereabouts and what we find on the videos?

"If he breathes a word of this to anyone I'll kill him myself," Draco says, as if he can read my thoughts from the expression on my face.

Though he is not one to be taken lightly when issuing threats, I chuckle once, the sound coming up garbled and unused. My cheeks flush with embarrassment while I clear my throat and I can only nod as Draco watches me.

"Rather him than either of us, I guess," I reply halfheartedly, brief enthusiasm leaking out as my tentative smile falls away.

Draco nods too, his lips straightening into an even line as he looks at the camera again.

"Let's just hope the others are still in place."

There's an almost awkward moment wherein I hover very closely to him. His neck twists and his face is inches away from mine and our eyes cannot seem to look away from each other. I can faintly feel his warm breaths and as his mouth slowly opens I hear, rather than see, his tongue dart across his bottom lip. I want to stare at his face until I have to blink, my eyes forced to shut because they're too dry, and judging by the way his pupils are dilating I would say Draco is thinking something similar.

But our silently heavy moment is interrupted and a jolting tingle lodges in the base of my spine. A key has just slid into the lock on the front door, someone's shuffling footsteps outside announcing our unexpected company.

My expression must have instantly turned panicked because Draco rushes into action, shoving the camera into his robe's pocket and taking a side step to move in front of me, his wand already drawn. We could run for cover and hide, carefully watch and analyze our intruder, but my feet are stuck to the floor and my body has tensed too much for me to move.

The key turns cautiously in the lock and Draco bends his knees a fraction. The seconds loudly tick by as the key is removed and I can hear the handle turning. The hinges on the door creak slightly, again as if this person is hesitant to enter the townhouse but knows they must, and a thin strip of muted light falls through the small opening.

I edge around the solid buffer that is Draco's body to get a glimpse of the shadowed person's identity and I automatically gasp when a pale hand slips between the door and the wooden frame. It is still too dark for me to see anything beyond an outline but my chest clenches tight as long, thin fingers wrap around the door and give it a gentle push. Dulled streetlight explodes across the hallway and the tall frame of a man hovers in the doorway.

Draco is a breath away from attacking, recognition or not, and I do nothing to hold him back as he takes another step forward. My head is dizzy with a sudden, if not slightly overwhelming, panic and a name echoes in my brain, the single syllable tinted with a confused question.

Ron?

**.**

**A/N: **I have modified a portion of chapter two to better flow with the events of this chapter. Nothing is changed with previous happenings nor is the plot going to be in any way affected by this minor change. It was a misstep on my part and I have since rectified it. Thank you for reading and I hope you continue on with me for this exciting journey.


	9. Sweet Oblivion

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Nine - Sweet Oblivion**

**.**

"Ron?"

I must have said his name aloud because his head snaps to attention and even through the partial darkness I can feel his blue gaze on me.

"Who's there?" He shakily calls out, the key falling into his pocket as he retrieves his wand and points it forward. Even after all of his years an Auror, Ron is apparently still spooked about entering a dark building alone.

We have stepped back just far enough so that the bands of light stop a foot in front of us, covering Draco and myself in the shadows while Ron's silhouette is marred by darkness and emphasized by the street lighting behind him. There's a chance that he won't recognize us through our glamours - but equally, he is likely to put the large pieces together and see through our disguises. Either way Ron will be alerting the Aurors or Harry, or both, about the location and our suspicious activity.

"Who's there?" Ron repeats, his hand waving back and forth as he points in every direction. "Show yourself!"

Draco is on edge, barely two seconds away from running forward and tackling Ron to the ground so that he can shut the door and end any other outside suspicions. My hand fists in the back of his robe, pulling with just enough force to sway him backwards and gain his attention. Thinking quickly, and hoping my emotions won't cloud my magic, I hold onto Draco while wordlessly chanting a powerful invisibility spell. My eyes squeeze shut as I will all of my energy into the magic and they pop open a half second later when I feel him relax slightly under my down I cannot see my body, even through the shadows, and I exhale steadily to calm my blooming anxiety.

There's no use in Ron being able to see us until we can weasel some answers out of him. I'm exceedingly curious to know why he is here, now of all times, and who prompted him to come.

"Shut the door you imbecile," Draco barks at Ron, his voice dropping deeply to better conceal his identity.

Ron flinchs and turns in our general direction. If he takes a handful of steps forward he will run into us but he remains ignorant to our true location as he stares through us without really that he is probably better off shutting the door and keeping these possible hallucinations to himself, Ron reaches a hand behind him without glancing away from where he thinks we must be and flaps his wrist several times until he bats at the edge of the door. The echo of the wood meeting the frame sounds louder than it ought to and there is only the unmistakable heaviness of our breathing left as soon as the outside noises are sealed off.

"Who's there?" Ron repeats with a tremor of fear, blindly hoping that the third time will be the charm and his invisible company will be revealed.

He's going to find out sooner rather than later that it's me and I know I have to act now if I want to keep Draco from unleashing fury on my dimwitted brother.

"Ron - " I state his name clearly, hoping he'll recognize my voice and begin talking. "What _are_ you doing here?"

"Come snooping for clues, eh?" Draco taunts him, a sneer as present in his voice as I'm sure it is on his face.

The faint light coming through one of the windows on either side of the front door highlights Ron's features as he cocks his head to get a better listen to our words. My brow tightens as I notice wrinkles around his eyes and the permanent frown to his mouth. I wonder if his stress lines were caused recently by my fiasco or if they are just another thing I hadn't noticed in the time since he and I have drifted apart.

"What are you on about?" Ron questions us suspiciously, no doubt to buy himself time because he cannot recognize his own sister's voice anymore. "Why would I be snoopin' 'ere?"

I feel Draco take a step backwards so that he is standing next to me and as his shoulder nudges mine I know he is silently mocking my brother's inability to catch on to the larger picture. Surely Ron is just pretending to be unknowing of why anyone would be here. I certainly hope he is not so daft as to think that we would believe his innocence of this dire situation.

"You tell us -" Draco grunts, folding his arms over his chest by the brushing motions I feel against my side. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Ron tenses and I can only guess that he is sizing us up by our voices. He now knows there are two of us to his one and he must guess that Draco would be willing to intercede on my behalf if something were to happen. Afterall, Draco is _such_ the gentleman.

"Ron - we're not going to hurt you," I state calmly hoping to either catch him off guard or buy a bit of his trust. Draco bristles beside me and I push my hip sideways against his, quieting him for the moment. Though I say that no harm will come, I know I cannot promise Ron that his ego will not be bruised after our encounter is over. "Just answer a few questions and you can go."

The light overhead comes to life and I'm struck by the sudden brightness. My heart beats at a galloping pace and the color drains from my face. With wide eyes I look up at Ron and the scowl twisting his features gives me pause. Oh yea - we're still invisible. Grinning at my brief panic, I glance to where Draco should be and tentatively reach my left hand out until I feel the mass of his arm. Grabbing his forearm I squeeze once and he inches closer. Still completely frustrated with our lack of appearance, Ron takes a hesitant step forward with his wand wavering back and forth in front of him.

In the light I can see that there is a slight ringing of black underneath his eyes. His once bright ginger hair has lost some of its color and the slight scruff that covers his sharp jaw looks like it hasn't seen a razor in too many days. The dark brown robe he is wearing has several stains near the collar and his khaki slacks have definitely seen better days. Ron looks tired and worn and I openly frown at his sagging shoulders and slumped posture. I wonder if his mishappen appearance is because of work and his association with my case or the stressful addition of having his first child. My chest constricts as I think of little Rose - the only image I have seen of her was the photograph my mother had at the Burrow after her birth and I pray that one day I will be able to meet my new niece without so much looming over my head.

"Only if you answer mine," Ron bargains, carefully inspecting every inch of the hallway as he steps forward, reactively sending Draco and I moving backwards with his advance.

"Alright," I concede, still holding onto Draco as if he and I could be separated at any moment."How did you get the key to the front door? I know you don't have one yourself."

My words make Ron stop and I hold my breath that I may have triggered his realization of us. His blue eyes narrow slightly and his wand stops when it is pointing directly in front of him, right at us. His lips pucker while forming a straight line, a habit he has had since childhood, and the expansive distance that has come between us looms like a treacherous and deadly sea in the middle of the short hallway. Ron quit speaking to me entirely when I joined MNZ Ventures and in turn I held my head high and hoped that one day he would come around. To this day I still think that Hermione persuaded Ron a little too harshly in an effort to keep anything from changing in her perfect little bubble.

But years of his wife whispering in his ear cannot undo his recognition of family. He knows it is me now - I can tell by the way he attempts to smooth over his expression, only to fail miserably as his brows furrow together. His cheeks pinken with Merlin knows how many years of anger and his knuckles whiten around his wand.

"I swiped Mum's key from the Burrow last night when I was there for dinner," Ron answers with a snap and what I assume is a sneer deepens the lines of his mouth. "Old bat doesn't even know I took it."

He fixes us with a triumphant smirk and I know Draco is using all of his strength to keep himself in check. The Malfoy heir has met my mother on several occasions in the last year and half and each time she has sung his praises more vividly than the time before. Draco has admitted that he enjoys her cooking and can see the appeal in having such a overly protective mother. It is no surprise to me that he is angered further by her own son's disrespect and I am half tempted to let the blonde haired wizard loose.

"So much snark for such an infinite coward," Draco drawls smoothly.

Ron seems to absorb his words and his entire demeanor shifts after a deep inhalation. His hackles rise with his chest puffing out and his body becoming eerily calm. He recognizes his longtime foe with a widening of his stance and suddenly Draco has blown any chance we had for getting some answers from Ron.

"Get away from my sister, Malfoy," he growls protectively, not having to see us to know that Draco and I are touching somehow.

"Not on your life, Weasel," Draco spits back and instinctively he places an invisible foot in front of me and stands to partially conceal me from Ron.

"What are you doing here, Ron?" I question feverishly, my voice squeaking as I place a hand on Draco's forearm reassuringly, letting him know that appreciate the gesture but I need to say my piece. "How did you show up right after we did - was it pure coincidence?" Surely he can hear the scraping hope in my words that he did not come here on purpose, at this exact time.

"Your little _boyfriend_ was very useful this morning," Ron baits me, his wand never wavering as he points it at us. Why he hasn't cast Finite Incantatem yet is beyond me but I am silently grateful enough to not point out his error just yet. "When he made it known that he was going to be leaving Malfoy Manor for a holiday we knew that he wasn't really going anywhere. So we tracked his magical signature and his Floo grates all day until tonight - when you made the mistake of Apparating."

The smug grin on his freckled face is enough to make me want to run across the hallway and smack him. He is so sure that he has caught us. He almost seems delighted to be so near to arresting us. My own brother - closest in age but farthest from love - is eager to throw me in prison and be done with the messiness that is association with me.

The odd silence is broken by a thick chuckle from Draco. I infinitely wish that I could remove the invisibility spell but the knowing sound gives me pause and I begin to count to ten, allowing him those seconds to say something or else I will.

"Did you ever think that perhaps we wanted you to find us?" He rhetorically asks just as I get to five. "Did you really think it would be as simple as watching the grids to find us?" Draco's voice drops off and I recover quickly from his implications when Ron's smirk disappears and his mouth goes slack.

Did we lure him here? Was that Draco's plan, why he was so giddy about performing this task tonight? It is certainly possible that he assumed our appearance at my townhouse, the crime scene, would attract some attention but was he aware that Ron would come to investigate?

"Where's Harry and Hermione?" I suddenly blurt, suspicion and accusation laced in the short query. Ron's eery sneer returns with my panicked question and he lowers his wand slightly. "Where are they! ?"

Ron and Harry have been Auror partners since the day they graduated from the training academy. Their completed missions and arrests total in the three digit range and they have received several honors and medals for their bravery. But everything they do, from staking out to the final capture, they do together. Which begs the question, where is Harry? Hermione I know would never go on reconoscence even if it meant running into her fugitive sister-in-law. But Harry - could he be coming up behind us, Ron having been the distraction so that he can catch us unawares? I turn around and shift my feet until my back touches Draco's. He does not give Ron any indication of my movement but slides his hand down to grasp my palm and squeeze it tightly.

"I know you're alone, Weasley," Draco speaks again, gathering Ron's attention even though I cannot see the slight of panic run through my brother at his assured tone. "Potter's not here and Granger is probably at home, spewing lies to your child."

Ron's face has become increasingly flushed as Draco rattles his chains and he explodes in a cry of fury and runs forward. Draco, still holding onto my hand, grabs my other wrist and moves me sideways with him as the angry oaf comes lumbering at us. I twist my head to watch him come to screeching halt just before he slams into an adjacent wall and Ron swivels around, a murderous glare searching the entryway.

"Not so easy to pathetically fight your opponent when you don't know where they are, eh Weasel?"

This whole scheme has turned out so differently than what I had anticipated and without warning I'm hit by a wave of exhaustion. My right hand falls out of Draco's grasp and I wearily rub my forehead as I only half watch Ron turn abruptly to where he heard Draco's voice.

"Why don't you quit cowering behind your spell, Malfoy, and show yourself! - like a real man," Ron practically shouts, a vein bulging over his eye as he frantically looks for some clue as to where we are.

Draco chuckles again, the noise sounding neither humorous or hopeful. "I wouldn't waste my time on the likes of you, or Potter, Weasley." He pauses and I imagine he is snobbishly raking his gaze up and down Ron's less than standard appearance. "Why don't you just run back to your puppet masters and tell them you failed - again."

Ron's mouth pops open to retort and I am fairly certain there is steam coming from his ears. He looks as angry as the time Mum spanked him for destroying half the plates in the kitchen, damage that of course had been done by Fred and George. Draco sweeps in, once again, before my sputtering brother can speak.

"In fact -" he begins thoughtfully, obviously humoring Ron to a slight degree before he enacts whatever trick he has thought of. "I'll just make sure you have your story straight and then we'll send you on your way."

"Draco - what are you going to do?" I grapple until I get a hold of his arm and I'm sure he is looking down his nose at me, probably curious as to why I'm questioning him now. My voice is a thick whisper as I add, "No surprises, right?"

It is a knowing phrase the employees of MNZ have come to use to covertly ensure that they will not be killing or seriously injuring their target. Even though trouble has befallen my relationship with Ron, Draco would never enact vengeance on him for his spineless actions - not with me present at least. I feel his body move slightly as he nods his head and he confirms my inquiry with an almost amused, "Right."

The wool fabric of his coat rustles as he pulls out his wand and I look to Ron, his freckled face twisted into a dreading yet curious expression. He too has raised his wand again and if I didn't know any better, I would think this was a scene from our Hogwarts days. Ron has no idea where to aim if he is to hit Draco and he must not care to consider that I could be hit as well because he opens his mouth, his nose scrunching up in the process, to angrily spew some spell at our general area. Draco beats him to it.

"Obliviate!" He roars beside me and a blue mist of magic shoots towards Ron and surrounds his head before soaking in to his body.

His eyes glaze over and he wobbles on his feet. Without removing the invisibility spell that is still on Draco and me, I unclasp my tight grip from Draco's arm and slowly walk the short distance down the hallway. Ron seems to come to a little bit as I place my fingertips against the cool skin of his neck. His gaze sluggishly moves back and forth and when he realizes that he cannot see whoever is touching him he cautiously flinches.

"Sssshhhhhh," I whisper soothingly. My left hand reaches up to brush the hair off his forehead and I am reminded of simpler times when we were children and Ron didn't hate me.

He relaxes slightly and his eyes slide shut, only to open widely as a look of coherent consciousness flashes through his gaze. As quickly it came, the spark disappears and Ron returns to staring blankly ahead. I glance over my shoulder and glare at the invisible Draco, silently cursing him for the reenforcing drowsiness spell that he projects with his Obliviates.

Placing a light hand on his elbow, I gently turn Ron and slowly pull him towards the front door. He easily complies and I grab the doorknob as he patiently stands beside me.

"Go home, Ron," I tell him. "Go home and kiss your daughter. Tell your wife that you didn't find anything and you saw nothing." He blindly nods and makes no move to leave. "Go Ron - go home," I prod again and give him a push as he nearly trips over the open threshold.

He gains his footing and stands on the stoop for a long minute. I shut the door quietly and sidestep to one of the windows to watch as he haltingly walks down the steps and pauses on the sidewalk in front of Number Twenty-Three. He looks back at the red door, for a moment I think he is staring at me through the window, as if there was something he has forgotten to do.

I know that look - that concentrated stare that a recently Obliviated person gives just as their awareness comes back. It doesn't lurch my heart like it would have in the past to see my brother appear so lost; Ron seems to be someone else entirely now and that person has no desire to listen to my opinions or give me a second thought. Before I can get caught up in wistful memories and what-could-have-been I pivot on the balls of my feet and glance back down the empty hallway.

Except I know it is not empty. Draco is standing close by waiting for me to say or do a word I remove the cloaking spell and turn away when I see that he is barely a meter away from me. I hear fabric rustling as he reaches out to console me but I take a step towards the door and let my shoulders slump with a releasing of the tension down my spine.

"We should go," I say to the door. "As soon as they realize what we've done, someone else will be here to investigate Ron's story." My hand grabs the cold, brass knob. "Leave the other cameras - that one will have to be enough."

I don't wait for Draco's response. I twist the doorknob and invite the outside world back in as I deeply inhale the fresh night air. Stepping over the threshold, my arms instinctively wrap around my torso and I give him a moment to follow before I feel his warmth at my back and I hear the door quietly clicking shut.

Draco places a hand on my elbow and there is a moment for me to exhale once before the familiar tug of Apparation takes us away from Number Twenty-Three Rose Road.

**D/G**

"And Theo just wants to obey his orders like some lap dog!" Pansy screeched as she tossed her hands up in the air, her emotions getting the better of her with the one-sided argument.

Millicent sat at the round table underneath the slate grey umbrella, her lips only moving to accept the cigarette between them before she inhaled. Her eyes followed Pansy as the dark haired witch paced back and forth across the spacious terrace overlooking her expansive backyard, her feet only pausing when she momentarily ranted, screamed and yelled, about her husband. And Draco. And Blaise - rest his soul.

"_You_ of all people should understand where I'm coming from," Pansy stopped and stared at Millicent, nonverbally pleading with her to agree. "Blaise was always generous towards you but I know for a fact that you often went beyond your duties without so much as a thank you or any recognition from him." Her dark brows shot up and one hand went to her hip as she cocked it to the side, proceeding with her rant. "Draco and Blaise have always called all the shots and taken all the credit for the company. And now Draco expects us to keep our noses out of Blaise's murder investigation? - _Ginny's_ arrest investigation?"

Millicent knew Pansy had a point but the anger that was now bubbling under her skin was due to her friend's disrespect, not petty past indiscrepancies that were well past overlooked. She was as callous now as she had been in their teenage years at Hogwarts except now Pansy was better able to mask her disguist and put on a happy smile when she wanted something.

Theo had always given in to Draco and Blaise's demands, no matter the circumstance. Neither were surprised when this time wasn't any different but this time Pansy's loyalties outmatched the devotion she felt for a husband who would willingly bow out of the hunt. This time the circumstances were personal and the stakes were higher - she was not going to miss out on any of the action. Nor was she willing to wait for someone else to do the work that she could accomplish more quickly herself.

"I don't know what to tell you," Millicent responded cautiously, her sentence going short as she took a drag off her cigarette. "I want to do something about it as much as you do - but where would we start? We can't very well go marching around asking questions when we're possible suspects ourselves."

Pansy stared at her skeptically, a haughty smirk quirking her red painted lips as one eyebrow arched. Scoffing indignantly she stated, "This is what we do for a living, Millie - we always know where to start."

Millicent did not quite like her tone of voice which indicated that Pansy was already plotting something. She herself had never much cared for 'in the field' assignments and prefered the predictable routine of sitting behind a desk. Whatever Pansy was scheming would surely involve getting their hands dirty and though Millicent liked Blaise and Ginny just fine, she suddenly wished she hadn't accepted her longtime friend's offer for afternoon tea that day. If she could remain in the shadows, she would - but Pansy was making it clear that she was going to make it increasingly difficult for Millicent to stay off the radar on this operation.

"The Aurors?" Millicent reluctantly, and rhetorically, questioned.

A devious grin broke the calm expression on Pansy's face.

"Let's pay Detective Hightower a visit - I have a feeling she knows more than what she has already told us."

Millicent inhaled a thick stream of smoke and crushed the cigarette butt into a large glass ashtray on the table. She sighed with a slow exhalation and slowly met Pansy's anticipatory stare.

"And if not? - then what?"

The grin morphed into a heinous sneer and Pansy gripped the back of an ornate metal chair as she leaned forward towards her friend and co-worker.

"_Then_ - we go see the Weasel King - rattle his chains and see if a threat to his precious Mudblood changes his tune - and his story."

Millicent nodded once, her throat working to swallow a large gulp as she turned silent. Soon enough she would be using all of that training she had endured - and with any luck she would not be nearly as incompetent as she had been on her first, and only, field assignment. Only time would tell but either way, Millicent could smell the change on the air and knew that they would be in for a rude awakening before too long.


	10. Dreamlover

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Ten - Dreamlover **

**.**

It was late, the sliver of the moon high in the sky evidence to that. But several lights were brightly shining in the Burrow and from the short distance of the fence outside, one could see a lone figure hustling around inside.

Molly Weasley was absently humming a tune, her gaze focused on the motion of her hands as she dried a large, oval serving platter. The remaining dishes from lunch and dinner were washing themselves and the familiar clink of the ceramic flatware lulled her into a rhythm; before long every dish was put away and the kitchen was nearly clean. Brushing her calloused hands down her flour dusted apron, Molly turned towards the oven and bent to open the metal door. The heavy aroma of sugary apples and warm dough permeated the room and she let the door snap shut as she fussed with several hand towels that needed folding.

The Burrow was full beyond capacity with baked goods and leftover meals. Since Ginny had gone missing and the horrible news of Blaise's death had come to light, Molly had been busying her idle hands and worrying mind with cooking. Every morning she awoke with a new recipe covering her thoughts and she would hurry out of bed to begin another day of distracting herself from the situation.

The small egg timer buzzed on the window sill and Molly scurried to turn it off, grabbing two oven mitts and putting them on as she retrieved the steaming pie. No sooner had she set it on the stovetop to cool than she heard a rapid knocking at the back door. Twisting at the waist to look over her shoulder, Molly deftly removed the thick gloves and hastily shouted, "I'm coming! I'm coming!" as she ran to the doorway on the other side of the kitchen. Her short legs moved as fast as she was able and one hand quickly reached for the handle as she saw through the glass who was outside.

"Ron! Hermione? - what's happened?" There was urgency in her tone that spoke of similar nights and unbearable tragedies, even as her brown eyes glanced down to her beautiful granddaughter, little Rose.

Hermione yanked on Ron's coat and pulled him inside as she stepped around Molly and into the kitchen. She immediately shut and locked the door and was not at all surprised when her daughter-in-law cast several protective charms on the room. Ron was shoved onto a mismatched chair at the kitchen table and Hermione tended to Rose as she began speaking.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, Molly," Hermione started, her eyes jerking to Ron before coming back to the Weasley matriarch. "Harry wasn't answering his Floo or his cell phone and I couldn't think of anyone else who could help me at such an hour - with Rose and all."

Molly hurried forward, flicking her wrist at the tea kettle on the stove and wandlessly retrieving three cups and saucers. "Nonsense - you are welcome here at any time of the day or night. Now tell me what's happened, dear."

She watched, afraid to offer help after the last time, as Hermione focused her attention on unstrapping Rose from the vest that hugged her chest. Like the wonderful child that she was, Rose just stared at Molly while her increasingly panicked mother fumbled with the plastic clasps and fabric straps.

"We got a tip that someone was going to visit Ginny's house tonight and Ron insisted that he go check it out." Hermione lifted Rose from the various appendage holes and bucklings and easily placed her in the high chair at the end of the table. "He was only gone an hour but when he came back - he's looked like this since he got back." She gestured to his dazed expression and sluggish demeanor.

"Have you performed any tests to see what's the matter with him?" Molly asked, leaning forward over Ron as her narrowed gaze inspected him and she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. "Ronniekins? Do you hear me?"

Ron absently swiveled his unfocused eyes to his mother and his lips parted as if he were going to speak but, if possible, his eyes glazed over even more. Her brow furrowed, the kettle steaming in the background that she ignored, and Molly turned to Hermione who was nonchalantly petting Rose's downy head.

"No -" Hermione had the grace to look slightly ashamed, even though her actions were far from saying as much. "He was well enough to latch onto my arm for Apparation and I didn't want to jeopardize his memories before we both had a chance to gauge them - together."

"He hasn't said anything?" Molly tentatively touched Ron's chest, worry creeping into her voice as she spoke again without turning to the other witch. "Hasn't done anything but stare blankly?"

"Not a word," the bushy haired witch replied evenly, almost with a hint of veiled anger.

"What was he thinking? - going to a crime scene all by himself," Molly tutted and kept muttering rhetorically. "All alone in that foresaken house - and where was Harry? - my little Ronnie - so fearlessly brave."

She missed the rolling of Hermione's eyes and the tightening of her set lips. Ron had been an Auror for almost five years now but Molly still refused to seriously think about what her son's job really entailed.

"He hasn't said anything -" Hermione began, pausing for effect until she noticed that Molly cocked her head towards her slightly. "But - I made sure he had a voice recorder on him."

Molly craned her neck to give the younger witch a blank look, knowing she was referring to some Muggle device.

"Here -" Hermione stepped forward and leaned over Ron. "It should still be in his pocket."

Her small hand slid underneath the lapel of his coat and after a moment of awkwardly bending her arm, Hermione pulled out a thin, silver rectangle. She fumbled with the buttons, pressing and releasing several in sequence, until a quick whirling echoed in the silent kitchen. Hermione pressed the middle button again and the noise stopped, a scratchy and distant, though painfully familiar, voice filling the air as the tape recorder sprang to life.

_"- we're not going to hurt you. Just answer a few questions and you can go."_

Molly's head snapped up as she recognized the person speaking. The tape was silent and then another voice responded.

_"Only if you answer mine."_

_"Alright. How did you get the key to the front door? I know you don't have one yourself."_

_"I swiped Mum's key from the Burrow last night when I was there for dinner. Old bat doesn't even know -"_

Hermione jammed down the stop button on the tape recorder and silently set it down on the table. She tentatively looked to her mother-in-law and casually straightened her spine when she saw that Ron's words had flown right over her head. Molly's gaze was vacant and quickly filling with salty tears.

"That was - that was Ginny," Molly choked out, her daughter's name coming out as near a sob as her composure allowed.

Hermione pressed her lips together to keep the sneer from showing itself. Of course it had been Ginny - harming her own brother. Hermione would have spat at the mere thought but Molly was sitting completely still, her hands close to shaking as she turned to her daughter-in-law with a determined gaze.

"Play the rest of it," she commanded and Hermione opened her mouth to protest. Who knew what else Ron had said to his estranged sister in a state of anger.

"I don't think -"

"Play it." Molly's brows stitched together and a muscle along her jaw ticked as she added, "Please. I need to know what Ginny says. I need to hear her voice."

Hermione's hand swayed towards her pocket where her wand was hidden. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea - she had meant to persuade Molly against Ginny's cause by showing her how careless and ruthless her daughter had become since deciding to take up with their enemies. She wanted Molly to understand, even through the means of a recording, that Ginny was under their control and that she was not a cause to be saved. Instead she seemed to have pushed the worried mother closer towards the hope that her youngest child was merely in need of redemption. One small flick of her wand and she could have Molly completely ignorant of their visit to the Burrow - one simple motion and her slight mistake in judgment could be fixed.

Hermione pressed play again and reluctantly sat down in the chair next to Rose as Molly inched closer to the tape recorder on the table. They listened for several too long minutes as the conversation between Ron, Ginny, and Draco played out again. Hermione had already heard the entire encounter before deciding to enact her plan against Molly and their words seemed to stretch on as she listened for a second time, her lie kept in place as she feigned surprise at the appropriate moments. When they finally heard the door click shut and the only sounds coming from the recorder were Ron's stumbling footsteps, Hermione smoothly stopped the tape and waited for Molly to say something.

The old and weary witch haltingly stood, her joints creaking in the process, and paced towards the stove. Without a word Molly picked up a teacup and lifted the kettle off the burner. She filled the faded ceramic cup with the steaming liquid but returned the objects to the counter without taking a sip. Seemingly lost to her own thoughts, Molly turned and walked towards the far side of the kitchen. Hermione inched forward in her chair and slowly retrieved her wand for the upcoming moment when Molly yelled up the rickety stairs, despite the late hour, for Arthur to join them downstairs. Her hand stilled, waiting, when the elder witch bent in front of a cabinet and she haltingly stowed it back in her robes as Molly stood up with a plastic baby bottle in hand.

Molly got out a glass container of milk and made work of heating it up, her hands finally glad for something to do that would distract her mind. She strayed away from her thoughts of Hermione's reasonings that night, why one of the smartest witches alive had needed her help with what was really just a minor situation, and instead thanked Merlin that she had been included in details. Too many times in recent years she had not been privy to vital information about her children or other family member's whereabouts and Molly felt a maternal determination rise as she chewed over what little facts she could gather from the recording.

The milk simmered in a low saucepan and she deftly poured the warm liquid into the faded green bottle, securing the top before striding across the small kitchen to the misshapen table. Molly placed the bottle in Rose's outstretched hands and watched for a moment as the infant suckled the milk like she had not eaten all day.

Returning to her chair, Molly absently wiped her hands down her apron and looked from Ron to Hermione and back again. "Play the recordings again," she said tiredly. "My Ginny is in a mess of trouble and I don't intend to let her hang for these heinous accusations."

Outside the wind rattled the loose shingles atop the Burrow's roof. The moon peeked out from behind a thick puff of clouds and solemnly gazed down at the quiet English countryside. The trees bent and swayed with the gentle breezes of the night and the leaves whispered feverishly of a wise woman's misfortunes. One by one the small lights in the quaint homes were snuffed out, marking the rolling hills in a shadowed darkness that promised beauty and happiness with the rising of the sun. And inside the mismatched tiers and oddly constructed home called the Burrow, two witches wordlessly committed to memory very different parts of the same tape recording. The lights did not dull nor did the noise level raise inside the peculiar house - nay, the world seemed to continue on without a cause for concern that one woman, somewhere in England, was drawing ever closer to her shocking demise.

**D/G**

His feet landed solidly on Malfoy soil and Draco immediately turned sideways to make sure Ginny was, physically, in one piece.

"You alright?" He asked, almost automatically, as if they had just returned from an assignment and he was making sure she was still there with him after whatever horrors they had just encountered.

"Yea," Ginny weakly responded, her exhale coming out heavier than she intended as she squared her shoulders to make up for the minor lapse in stoic demeanor. It was not very often that she had to see that painfully blank look on someone she loved's face and even though it had been Ron, estranged and slightly deranged brother that he was, Ginny was still shaken by the sudden casualty to his person. That she had to walk him out the door like a child had steeled her nerves and she had reflexively retreated backwards, remaining silent for a few moments as Draco glanced at her warily and absently reached for his wand.

The Apparation point in Malfoy Manor was contained within an oval of roses in a small enclosure just beyond the grand patio in the back of the mansion. Moonlight bathed the growing buds and thick leaves, casting shadows along the perimeter of the short hedges. Draco mutely _Scourgified _their robes while Ginny stood still, staring over the darkened outlines of the remainder of the expansive garden. He watched her closely, eyeing her empty expression and emotionless facade, before dropping his hand down into his cloak pocket, depositing his wand and picking up the small camera in its place.

"All that trouble over this little thing," he commented with a sigh, his gaze on the black lens and boxlike appearance of such an important object.

When Ginny didn't respond Draco looked sideways and frowned at her faraway demeanor. His ashen brows knitted together and he wondered what it must be like to have a sibling - to have someone his own age to complain about his parents to, someone whom he would love without questioning it. Shrugging his shoulders to rid himself of the creeping sensation along his spine, Draco closed his fist around the camera and turned towards her more directly.

"We're going to figure this out," he told Ginny in a low, soothing voice. "We'll find the bastard that killed Blaise and we'll give them what they deserve."

She nodded and he could tell it was more of a habitual reaction than a recognition of what he had said. He wanted to take that one step and wrap his arms around her, kiss her worries away, and whisper in her ear that he would never let anyone hurt her again. But Ginny had her insurmountably high walls erected and he was not willing to broach her patience if it meant sacrificing her trust in him in the long run. She needed a friend right then, not another man pawing at her because she was grieving and vulnerable. He could only allow himself to wistfully reach a hand out to grab her arm, the tips of his fingers brushing along the material of her coat before falling back into the cool night air.

"Come on," Draco said with a trace of longing. "We need to get this camera to Malloy as soon as possible."

For some reason his words caused a crack in her defenses. Ginny tilted her chin down and he could have sworn he heard her lightly snort. Sure enough, she angled her face towards him and kept her eyes down and her lips slightly quirked as she raspily spoke.

"_Malloy_? Where did you find him - in the phone book, listed directly beneath _your_ name?"

Draco fell into a falsely perturbed demeanor, his face blanking into an almost innocent expression as he sarcastically scorned her.

"And touch something that a _Muggle _had touched?" He shook his shoulders in an imitation of the snootiest Purebloods and pitched his voice to sound quite affronted. "Why - I would never dare."

The hint of a laugh escaped Ginny's lips. Draco grinned, his chest warming and smile widening at the melodious sound, but as soon as he saw her sudden shock, he fell silent and dropped the happy expression, allowing them both to glance away in frustration.

Coughing, as if to clear his throat during an awkward situation, Draco asked, "Are you capable of Apparating again? Or would you rather wait another moment?"

Ginny did not take his gentle words as anyone else might have - someone who would have heard him and misinterpreted his questioning for snideness - but shivered in response. The chilly breeze blew several now fiery locks across her flushed cheeks and she reflexively wrapped her arms around her middle to warm herself. Chancing a glance at the expectant, handsome wizard beside her, Ginny nodded once as her eyelashes fluttered against her cold skin.

"Let's get this over with," she affirmed, the lone sentence tainted with dread as she pulled her right arm free and left her hand out in the space between them.

Draco did not hesitate and eagerly wrapped his bare fingers around the leather gloved palm presented for him. He squeezed Ginny's hand and lightly leaned into her when she did not move a muscle in his grasp. Taking out his wand, he lazily waved it in a half arch before pausing and giving her a guilty but skeptical look.

"When we get there - Malloy - he's kind of - he's - well he's _unique_ - even for my standards of Muggles."

Ginny craned her neck, intrigued despite herself. The remark that spewed forth was more automatic than honestly snarky.

"Draco Malfoy has a scale for judging Muggles - how fitting."

He cracked a wiry grin and shrugged his shoulders, silently begging her to elaborate and ask him about it more.

"You'll see what I mean soon enough. Just don't tell me that I didn't warn you."

Ginny let one eyebrow arch with curiosity but said nothing more, simply nodding as if to agree that she wouldn't berate him for his choice in associations. She rotated her head forward and braced herself, waiting for the unannounced moment when he would Apparate them.

"Ready?"

"Mmmhmmm."

Draco flicked his wand definitively and their bodies momentarily shrunk down to the pull just behind their belly buttons. A crisp pop sounded their departure and in the blink of an eye, the rose garden was lifeless once more.

Ginny was certain that Draco had brought them to the wrong place. They stood in the middle of a filthy street that had probably never seen better days. The few houses that appeared to be lived in were sagging sideways and falling apart; the other buildings along either side of the dirty, cobbled street looked completely decrepit and uninhabitable, even for rodents. Spirals of heavy smoke rose in two distinguishable stacks along the dead end strip of road and she was well aware that they signaled rubbish bins aflame with heat for the homeless. Metallic wrappers and scraps of old newspapers tumbled along the sidewalks with the night's breeze and she crinkled her nose in disgust when a waft of decay drifted past.

Draco did not pause to enjoy the scenery as she did, instead glancing both ways down the street before turning on his heel and walking towards the nearest alley. Ginny scurried to catch up and eagerly grabbed a fistful of his robes so that she could not lose him.

"Where the bloody hell are we?" She brusquely whispered, her copper eyebrows furrowing together as she hurried to keep up with his longer strides.

"Better to not ask questions that you won't like the answers to, love," Draco replied, dipping his head against his shoulder so that she could hear him.

Even on her less than suicidal missions, Ginny had been aware of how dangerous her surroundings were; if Draco was keeping that bit from her, she could only angrily wonder what murderous ghetto he had brought her to.

He sharply turned the corner of a crumbling cement building, the front showcase bearing a helpless, faded blue banner that declared discounts for military and service veterans. Ginny glanced over the dust covered shoes in the window and scurried around the rough exterior as Draco ducked his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. She tried to copy his movements but a trio of scummy looking riff raff halfway down the long alley caught sight of her fiery hair and began whistling at her.

"Aye baby!" The biggest of the group called, stepping out from the shadows to display a well scared and ugly face with a too cocky sneer in place. "Why don't ya ditch tha' wanker and le' us show ya a goo' time!"

Ginny's breath hitched. She had been in this situation numerous times in her life - the young woman out walking who appears so vulnerable and innocent. Like every other instance she should have kept on moving and ignored them, resorting to kicking their ass only when they came too close. But a second, disgusting looking man stepped into the light and she paused when the glinting of a knife flashed in his hand. Draco, whether completely oblivious or too harried to bother, kept walking and stopped in front of a nondescript black door tucked into a small alcove barely thirty yards from the ogling men.

"See - He's already gone on without ya!" The second man jeered with a gap toothed smirk.

As if just hearing the men for the first time and registering their distant words, Draco paused when his hand was poised to knock on the door. He glanced over his right shoulder to where she was standing, frozen to the spot, and then over his left where the lowlifes stood their ground. He was halfway between them and Ginny but far too close for her to gather her nerves and sprint to him.

"He leaves ya once - he'll leave ya again!" The first oaf hollered, a gut wrenching laugh following that turned over Ginny's stomach. "Come on, suga'!"

It happened so fast, she couldn't be sure if she had imagined it or if her magic had momentarily spun out of control again. A terrified expression changed the three men's face just before they were all pulled backwards and thrown against the nearest brick wall. They sunk to the ground, unconscious, and their bodies didn't move again. Ginny gasped, squinting through the haze of her foggy breath to determine if they were really knocked out. Draco stepped out of the small nook and his platinum hair caught her eye as he turned sideways to face her.

"Come on," he chided, bringing his left hand in into view as he gestured towards the door.

Ginny didn't waste a second and darted down the narrow length of the alley. The moon overhead cast its bright glow as she maneuvered past an overflowing and rancid trash bin and she squeaked by Draco to hover between him and the black door. Paint chips fell on the arm of her cloak as she brushed the metal surface and Ginny barely kept herself from jumping when he rapped his knuckles against the seemingly hollow surface in a short pattern.

She leaned closer to the door but couldn't hear any movement from inside. A short whirring noise drew her attention and Ginny peered around the dingy space until she noticed a tiny camera mounted in the top corner, its roving eye staring at them intently. Draco shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and looked the picture of comfort as he lazily examined the shadowed exterior of the building.

"I don't think anyones here," Ginny whispered, staring at the camera and wondering just who this Muggle contact of Draco's really was.

"He's here," Draco replied confidently, his hands going back into his pockets as the cold nipped at his bare flesh.

"I don't think -"

A lock loudly slid out of place and the hinges on the door creaked as if it had been pushed open from the inside. Ginny glanced, wide eyed, at Draco over her shoulder and stared at the slight opening into this mysterious man's lair. He bumped her shoulder from behind and nodded encouragingly when she questioningly looked back at him again.

"Go ahead," Draco told her. "It's not going to bite," he teased and the corner of his lips twisted upwards.

With more courage than she truly felt, Ginny slipped her slim fingers into the small gap and pulled on the door. It came open easier than she anticipated and she had to steady her balance before she nearly stumbled backwards from her extra momentum. Draco stepped forward, one hand reaching above her head to grab the metal edge of the door, and ushered her inside, hovering against her back so that she couldn't turn and run from the eery darkness within. He yanked the door behind them until it met its frame once more, cloaking them in a state of near darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the _very _dim lighting, Ginny inched forward, her boots shuffling along matted carpet as she moved. Draco turned sideways and shimmied past her, placing a hand on her wrist as he went and pulling her with him as he began steadily walking down the tight corridor.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Ginny whispered again, her gaze tearing from a door that was cracked open just enough for her to see a dingy mattress on the trash strewn floor.

"Would they have let us in if it wasn't?" Draco returned her question with another, though his was rhetorical, and kept moving.

Auburn eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead and her lips pursed, her mind cursing him up one side and down the other.

"If you're just going to be a smartass the entire time, why did you even bother to bring me with you?" Ginny spat, anger slicing her words as she surged closer to him with the sight of several used needles lying across a lopsided table against the wall.

"Because I just enjoy your company _so much _when you're cranky and irritable," he sarcastically commented, his silver gaze jumping from one door to the next as his fingers dropped down to her palm and interlocked with her own shorter digits.

Ginny huffed indignantly, completely ready to tell him where he could shove his snide remarks and over inflated ego.

"Oh - as if _you're _Mr. Personality," she barked in a rough whisper. "Thanks to you I'm slumming through some _drug nest _in the hopes that -"

"Shhhhh!" Draco cut her off, squeezing her hand as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway.

Ginny glanced around, completely unaware of how they had walked the long length without incident, and nudged up against his back when Draco remained motionless.

"Do we have to use a special knock again?" She asked, her chin resting on his shoulder as she precariously balanced on her tiptoes to see yet another black, unmarked door. Only this time there was no handle for them turn and get inside. She thought it peculiar but knew questioning the security measure would get her snide remark from Draco.

He sighed and she could tell that a heavy eye roll had accompanied the noise. Her heightened senses were giving her a spike in adrenaline and Ginny bounced back onto the balls of her feet before he could push her away for touching him. Again she took in the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint on the walls, warily eyeing a gaping hole that promised vermin and spiders. The whole place was giving her the creeps and somehow she was not relieved by the fact that they had not seen anyone else. Just as she was parting her lips and inhaling before speaking, her tongue darting out to wet her mouth, eager to voice her uncertainty of their location, an unseen lock slid out of place and the nondescript door popped open.

Draco did not wait for her to jump in, asking her insistent questions and opened the door. He grabbed the thick wood and pulled it ajar, promptly striding through as Ginny immediately followed. She glanced back as it quietly clicked shut behind them and thankfully saw a discrete handle in the appropriate place.

The room they had entered appeared to be a waiting room with several couches pressed up against the slate gray walls and low tables with magazines and books taking up space in front of them. Potted plants dotted the four corners and through the dimmed lighting Ginny could make out sweeping symbols adorning the walls in black streams. She knew that it was not normal Muggle artwork and wondered what sort of affiliations this Malloy had. Draco did not pause to take in their surroundings as she did and strode forward to a mahogany door directly across the room, a line of light falling out from beyond.

This door was already cracked open and she obediently followed him through to another unknown room, once again glad that the door had a handle and that at least she could now see where they were. But Ginny's hopes of finding out anything were dashed as she realized this was yet another decoy room, only this one was completely and pristinely white and had three nondescript doors through which they could go.

"Which one?" She asked, her eyes dancing from one entryway to the next.

Draco looked at each door and bit down on his bottom lip as he focused on the one to their right.

"We'll find out," he answered, his hand instinctively going into his pocket so that he could hold the familiar warmth of his wand.

Ginny had no doubt that the correct door would open for them but her patience was wearing thin. This game that they were playing, waiting for the doors to open for them as they continued deeper into the mysterious and cavernous building, was grating on her last nerves and damn it all if she wasn't irritable and cranky like Draco described. It came as no shock when the door to their left popped open but she was slightly surprised by the steady rhythmic tune that floated through. A hypnotic stream of rap lyrics slowly followed the beat and Ginny found herself drawn to the doorway, Draco closely behind.

The lyricist was clearly American and she curiously, and, for the first time, seriously, wondered who this Malloy character was. Or maybe it was his complex Muggle background that she was thinking about. For all her Weasley heritage and openmindedness, Ginny did not interact with Muggles in any way that would allow her to get a good look into their lives. Malloy's obvious precautions and immaculate inner surroundings threw her for a loop and made her consider how very different people could be so very much alike.

This fourth door led into a room the likes of which Ginny had only seen in Muggle films. Every available space, among the shelves or atop a large L-shaped desk, was covered in some sort of technology or consumed by books. One wall, from floor to ceiling, was television screens, their images either news programs, internet videos, or pertinent television shows, and another wall held various sized computer monitors that displayed charts, documents, or random pictures. She gaped at the third wall that held a tall shelf which housed many blinking boxes. Several keyboards, all in different languages she saw, were cluttered in front of the computer screens while large books and scatterings of paper covered the remainder of the wooden desk beneath the monitors. And in the middle of the well lit mess was an enormous black man, his broad shoulders hunched over as his eyes followed his finger across the page of an ancient text.

"Ahhhem," Draco not so discretely cleared his throat and Ginny held her breath, watching the hulking man for any signs of anger or surprise.

He did not appear to have heard Draco and continued reading silently. Heavy dreadlocks hung down his beefy back, a few that were too short for the elastic tie falling to hang down by his obscured face, and partially revealed a thick neck with what Ginny assumed was a tattoo inked into the chocolate skin. She was also certain that, at some point in time, Malloy had been a fighter. The long finger that paced across the reed thin page was crooked, bending halfway down the middle bone, and his knuckles were heavily scared. Suddenly curious about Draco's Muggle contact, she hardly realized she had inched forward until Malloy straightened up and swiveled around to face them.

Ginny jumped back, bumping into Draco, as Malloy flashed a toothy grin and waggled his eyebrows.

"'ello dove," he greeted her with a drawl smooth enough to rival Draco.

As with everything else on his body, thick eyelashes framed brown eyes so dark she was not certain where his pupils ended and the rich color began. Malloy leaned backwards in the too small leather chair and folded his large hands over his once-muscular chest, the recliner's springs giving a soft groan as he got comfortable. And it was then that Ginny noticed what was wrong with him. His entire left arm, from his elbow down to his hand, was completely immobile. His fingers lay dead, splayed against the crook of his right elbow, and the muscles along his forearm remained unflexing even as he rolled his shoulder and pretended not to notice her staring. Whatever had happened to him had completely taken him out of any sort of fighting circuit and Ginny's heart momentarily lurched for the big man that she didn't know.

"When I told ya that ya could brin' me payment in women I didn't thin' ya would ta'e me seriously," Malloy said, his eyes flicking backwards to Draco before the wizard, whom she might have forgotten about for one tiny second, stepped forward and placed half his body in front of hers.

"I didn't," Draco replied flatly, only Ginny recognizing the tension in his voice as the muscles along his neck tightened. "She's here with me to tend to some business."

"Well I sure hope tha' she's the one ta spank me if I can't fix ya problem," Malloy charmed, winking at Ginny as a wide, toothy smile showed his enjoyment of the situation.

"_I _handle all forms of punishment that need dealing," Draco stated crisply, taking the smug look off of Malloy's face. "And I wouldn't want to have to repeat my actions should you fail me twice," he added in a dark undertone, his words dripping with some veiled threat.

Ginny could hear his Adam's apple bob up and down as Malloy gulped. There would be time later to ask Draco what this Muggle had done wrong to him in the past but right now she wanted their pissing contest to hurry up and end so that she could, sooner rather than later, find her soft and warm bed. The tension in the room was palpable enough to cut with a knife and Ginny rolled her eyes, discretely sliding her left hand down into the pocket of Draco's cloak and grasping the small object inside. With her fingers wrapped tightly around the security camera, she moved to once more stand between the two men.

"Hi. Malloy?" Her auburn brows arched as he mutely nodded. Ginny smiled sweetly as she extended a dainty hand to him. "Ginny." His much longer fingers gripped hers in an awkward hand shake before their arms dropped. "I'm sorry Drac-" Draco coughed beside her, earning him a curious glance from Ginny. "I'm sorry. . . _Drake _is behaving so poorly but he has spoken very highly of your knowledge and . . . skills with technology. He brought me to you because we - because I need your help."

Draco huffed a sigh, exasperated after her negative mention of him, and crossed his arms over his chest to denounce any objection to her taking the lead. The whole trip to her townhouse had been his idea but he pushed aside his irate feelings and clamped his mouth shut.

"Wha' do ya nee', Miss Ginny?" Malloy asked, his dark eyes darting over to Draco and his back straightening as he sat up.

Ginny pushed her closed fist out in front of her and slowly opened her palm. The tiny black camera lay there inconspicuously, their reflections glinting off the small lens.

"Get whatever videos and information you can out of - _off of_ this thing," she stated as if it were a simple task. "Whatever you find - put it on a memory card and we will return to retrieve it."

Malloy unfurled his arms, allowing his dead left appendage to rest on his lap, and held out his hand to take the camera. Ginny fingered the object like it held a plague on its surface and delicately placed it on his broad palm. Just as his massive hand began to curl in on itself, Draco shot his arm out and grabbed Malloy's wrist in a vise grip.

"You will not look at or watch anything that you find on that camera." His hard tone did not disperse any leniency. "Do you understand?"

Malloy nodded feverishly, a giant quaking before a man half his size.

"Say it," Draco said between gritted teeth, his upper lip just about turned up in a sneer.

"I - I understand."

"Excellent." Draco removed his hand and took a step backwards to stand next to Ginny. "You will receive payment once you have worked your magic with that camera," he finished as he adjusted his cloak and pulled a magicked pair of leather gloves from his pocket, smoothly putting them on as his silver eyes turned sideways to find Ginny.

Malloy's large head bobbled in silent response but he had gotten over his momentary fear and was staring intently at the camera. Already he was lost to a different world of line codings and hacking techniques.

"Shall we?" Draco spoke to Ginny, gesturing towards the door behind them.

The trip through the two outer rooms and down the endless hallway took less time than she remembered. Most likely because she was not stopping to gape at the filthy living conditions of the decrepit building or fumbling to find her sense of direction in the dimly lit hallway. Draco took off at a rigid pace and Ginny barely had time to pull her hand back before it got crushed with the closing door, her face coming just as close to slamming into the heavy surface. She stormed outside, her final nerve worn bare, and was almost instantly wrapped up in Draco's embrace, her body tensing with the warmth of his close proximity.

Ginny's arms were stiff at her sides, her face shoved into the crook of his neck so that she, at first, deeply inhaled the scent that was purely him. Draco squeezed and Ginny felt her stomach drop for an entirely different reason as the pull of Apparation took them from the trash strewn alley.

**D/G**

I always feel exhausted once a mission is over. No matter how small the task, the actual action of Apparating, going out, and finding some untraceable clue, never fails to drain me of all energy as soon as my feet touch down at home. Tonight is no exception and although my senses are heightened and I can feel my pulse humming, my shoulders sag and my entire body feels heavy the moment Draco and I are back in the rose garden at Malfoy Manor.

Neither of us is willing to break the silence of our short trip and we end up walking slowly through the maze of hedges back to the Manor without a word passing between us. He opens a glass door into the Manor and we continue down a very different hallway, the heels of our shoes the only noise against the wooden paneled walls. I can hear grumblings from a few portraits as our near silent journey awakens them from a snoring slumber but Draco cranes his neck over his shoulder and glares at the ancient wizards and witches, his ancestors wordlessly chastised for begrudging our tired steps.

My eyes are dry and the lids feel heavier each time I lift a foot to climb the winding staircase. Draco has to share my exhaustion but his shoulders are still rigidly straight and his expression blank. I stifle a yawn but my mouth is already stretching and a small squeak comes off my tongue, a blush rushing to my cheeks even as I see that my yawn is contagious as Draco's lips pull apart seamlessly. Once we reach my bedroom door on the third floor, he stands awkwardly beside me as if he wants to say something. I've failed to mention my sleepwalking episode from last night but if I say anything now he'll become even more protective than he was earlier.

"Well - g'night," Draco states lamely, his ashen eyebrows arched expectantly.

"Night," I mumble in return and hastily push open the door before he can vocalize whatever sentiment is on his mind.

He's still standing in the hallway, watching me, when I turn around halfway to close the door. His hands are clenching and unclenching slowly at his sides but he makes no move to come inside or say anything so I smile hesitantly and gently push the door shut. My lungs exhale loudly as I press my forehead against the wooden surface and for a moment I imagine our hands, mine and Draco's, grabbing hold of the handle on opposite sides of the door at the same time as we both decide that we need more comfort than our bedrooms being only twenty yards apart. I strain to hear anything over the thumping of my heart but Draco's muted footsteps on the carpet come through loud and clear as my gut drops from my throat with an odd ringing of disappointment.

I'm too tired to do much more than kick off my boots and toss my robes and thick sweater onto the floor before literally crawling beneath the bed covers. My toes curl together as my knees come up close to my chest, my right shoulder pressing into the mattress as I get comfortable on my side. I wiggle my nose around the perfectly lumpy portion of the pillow and close my eyes as my left hand pulls the comforter up to my chin.

At first I think it will be difficult to fall asleep, even though my body is heavy as lead and my entire being feels exhausted. My mind is replaying the night's adventures and my brows are knitting together even as my thoughts become increasingly hazy. I keep seeing Ron's blank expression morphing into Malloy's look of momentary fear and before long Blaise is capturing my mind's eye.

_It's so bright. I'm squinting against the powerful light but all it seems to accomplish is to blind me a little bit more. Wherever I am - I am here alone. _

_No. _

_A black blur is coming closer, growing larger and more detailed as it approaches. My right hand hovers against my eyebrows, shielding some of the brightness as I finally recognize the man striding towards me. _

_Blaise. _

_Of course. _

_I blink and the light dims, bringing into view our surroundings. Blaise is smiling happily, his cream, drawstring linen pants and halfway unbuttoned shirt seeming out of place in the wooded forest until I gaze behind him and see a golden beach and the bluest ocean. He extends a hand to me, his creamy mocha skin beautifully lined, and I don't even hesitate to take it, stepping forward so that our chests are lightly touching. His touch feels as warm as the humid air around us and I feel myself stupidly grin as he intertwines our fingers. _

_Blaise turns and we're suddenly running towards the treeline, my feet slapping against the moist earth as he glances back and smiles at me. We pass through the forested border to the sandy beach and the scene around us changes. _

_The lighting softens as sunlight now streams through the large window over the sink in our kitchen. Blaise is standing with his back to me, his dark head bent as he expertly shakes a pan of sizzling potato wedges with the flick of his wrist. Out of the corner of my eye I see a dark blur move and as I turn to get a better look, the flash of a silver blade stops my heart. Blaise is tending to his cooking, completely unaware of the impending attack, and my horrified gaze slowly moves with the person's approach. _

_My lips pull back to scream and shout, his name on my tongue as I yell to get his attention. But nothing happens - I'm mute and completely removed from doing anything but watching the scene play out. Every step I take towards Blaise takes him another ten meters from me and I shamefully give up, finally remaining still, as hot tears roll down my cheeks and my eyes remain fixed on his bouncing shoulders. _

_I can't do anything, can't help him at all in this cruel dream and my body shakes with sobs, my hands clawing at the air as he is overcome by the shapeless person. Blaise turns around to attack, his hands flying to a defensive position, but he stops, his liquid chocolate eyes framed by lines as he stares questioningly at his opponent. His pause is all that is needed and I gasp, my entire chest constricting, as the sharpened edge of the knife flashes before driving into his gut. Blaise hunches over, his arms falling as he applies pressure to the spewing wound. The blade glints in the sunlight as it slashes through the air and swipes a clean line across his vulnerable throat. _

_The rich ruby of his blood draws all color from the room and I'm transfixed by the moment, a beautiful tragedy starkly captured in shades of black and white. But time rushes forward as Blaise grasps at his second wound, his doubled over form now visible to me as the mysterious attacker disappears. I can feel a painful ache in my gut - my body screaming at me to help him, to do something so he won't die. Subconsciously I'm pleading with every diety to give me Blaise's injuries, to give me the death blow instead of him. _

_I too fall to my knees and the motion, however far apart we are, draws Blaise's attention. I gasp when I realize he is staring at me, foolishly I thought I had gone unnoticed with my voyeurism in tact. But he is looking right at me, those loving eyes watered with tears and panic. _

_"Help me!" He mouths, his words dull and muted until they come roaring at me with the complete fear he is feeling. _

_"Help me!" Blaise screams again. _

_"Help me Ginny!"_

**.**

**.**

**A/N: **Sorry for the lengthy chapter but my overactive brain and typing fingers got a little carried way. Leave me a review and let me know what you think - love it or hate it. Any feedback is better than none. Which is what I'm getting now - so step up your game, readers, or I might have to hold out on you a little bit longer next time ;) xoxo


	11. Detection

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Eleven - Detection**

**.**

It was a typical dreary day in London. Heavy and ominous storm clouds had remained over the vast city for several days now, fat raindrops never too far off from falling even in a prolonged, though still quite brief, stretch of dryness. The weather had matched his mood for as many days now and every rumble of thunder or flash of lightning reminded him that the clock was ticking and he still did not have any sort of resolution in sight for his current case.

Ten days ago, Officer and Special Detective Scott Phillippson had confidently smirked at the opportunity to take on a more public case. A lover's spat turned murder was usually predictable and easy - the victim and perpatraitor cleanly identified. That detail was no different for this case - but as it happened with other cases, this criminal had not made it easy for him find her and put her in custody. No - Ginny Weasley was not making his job any easier.

A strong and calloused hand brushed along the side of his stubbled cheek and rubbed at his lined brow. Scott had already found a few gray hairs in his mane of thick ebony waves but that did not at all deter from his physical appeal. At thirty-two he still looked like a man in his twenties and his well toned physique kept his suspects on their toes and allowed his body to bear the wear and tear of the job with a slight advantage over his tubbier co-workers. He would do well to nab a higher rank but being a detective was all he had ever wanted - to scrutinize every detail and sniff out the crime scenes to take a criminal off the streets. Every case was a new puzzle to him and each time the mystery lured him in with its twists and turns.

The wall of paned glass windows shook behind him with the force of the galling winds. Rain drops pelted the transparent surface and rolled down, over the welded frame, falling like lonely tears across the glass. Scott felt the cooler draft seep through the cracks in the window but paid it no mind, his forearms resting against the edge of his messy desk as the rolls of his sleeves crinkled in the crooks of his elbows. His pale amber eyes scanned the useless sheets of papers in front of him, none of the information registering as he reread it.

A shrill ringing from the phone pierced the quiet office and Scott glanced around, trying to remember which pile of papers it was buried underneath. His long fingers found the plastic object after a hurried search and his thumb hastily pressed the green button on the cordless phone before he brought it up to his ear.

"Special Detective Phillippson."

"Scott!" Peter, the young officer directly beneath him on the case, frantically called through the staticky connection. "Scott! I've found something!"

He stood up, immediately pacing as he mentally prepared for the worst, though ready without hesitation to leave and go to the scene.

"I woke up this morning and something told me to go back to the scene," Peter rushed, his words running together with his haste. "I don't know what it was, sir - and I _know _I should have contacted you before I even thought about going there but I just had to -"

"Spit it out, Lochland," Scott interrupted.

Peter could be heard inhaling quickly several times while incoherently muttering. "We wiped everything clean after we checked for evidence - completely sterilized everything."

"And. . . ?"

"At the time, I didn't think anything of it," Peter rambled. "It's just part of procedure and -"

"_Lochland._"

"Sir - someone was there."

Scott stopped, his feet pausing with his heart. That was impossible. They had fixed the townhouse with monitors and silent alarms that would have notified them if someone had been there. Constables were scheduled around the clock to patrol Rose Road and keep an eye out for suspicious activity. If someone had managed to thwart all of their fail safes then it could only be one person.

"Are you sure? How do you know?"

Scott was shrugging his coat and heavier duster on as he balanced the portable phone between his ear and shoulder.

"I went in, looking for anything that we might have missed - and I noticed the carpet runner in the entryway was - out of place. Like someone had shuffled as they walked or even tripped, causing it to bunch up." Peter hesitated, his tone changing as he dramatically added the final clue. "So I checked everything else out and I found fingerprints on the door knob - on the _inside_ handle."

Scott's eyes zoomed back and forth across the floor as he analyzed what this meant.

"Did you check the outside handle as well?"

"There were prints - but they were smudged - most likely paparazzi or reporters trying to get in," Peter concluded with a trace of shame.

"So somehow - someone got into the home. They didn't use the front door to enter the house but they used it to leave," Scott verbalized all of the unspoken details, his momentum slowing as he processed what to do next.

"Nothing is missing, sir," Peter commented. "I cross referenced every room with the photographs we took during our initial investigation and nothing was taken."

Scott assumed as much, already knowing that whoever - and he had a good idea of who that person was - had gotten into the townhouse did not do so to steal anything.

"Stay there," Scott commanded. "Keep an eye on the street and be sure not to touch anything else until I get there."

"Yes sir."

"I'll be there soon, Lochland," Scott promised and ended the phone call.

After hurriedly returning the portable phone to its buried charger on the desk, he slid the department issued gun into the back waistband of his trousers and strode across the office for the door. One hand reached into his pocket for his cell phone and the other grabbed the brass knob, turning it and pulling the door open as his eyes fell to the floor. And stopped halfway down.

No sooner had he taken a step over the threshold did he see the woman standing just on the other side.

Scott stopped short, his muscles tensing and his heart jumping in his chest as he met the gaze of a very stunning woman. Nearly as tall as he was in a pair of knee high, black leather boots, she regarded him carefully with colorful green eyes and he tried not to stare when he saw that she was wearing a heavy robe that brushed her thighs. Apparently though, she thought him the odd one and raised an eyebrow at his rumpled suit and coffee stained tie.

"Detective Phillippson?" She asked with a rich, confident voice.

"Yes. . . ?" Scott could not keep the hesitation from his one worded response.

Tossing several locks of chestnut hair over her shoulder, she turned sideways and walked past him into the office. Scott glanced back, his temper and patience wearing thin, and glowered at this woman's presumptuousness.

"What do you want?" He turned to face her, having dealt with enough secretive intelligence agencies to know when to spot a covert agent. "And who are you?"

She held her hands behind her back and forced a tight lipped smile, his mind briefly imagining that he saw a wooden stick swing against her rear. Underneath the deep maroon robe she was dressed business casually in black trousers and a white, silk button up shirt but the drooping hood and heavy pockets of the robe deterred from any sense of normalcy that she might have emitted. Scott retraced his steps and moved back into his office, shutting the door and locking it. He hardly wanted anyone to happen upon this meeting. Her lips twitched and as her pink tongue darted out to lick the seam of her mouth he felt a slight tremor roll over his skin.

"Sharalin Hightower," the woman introduced, though her grim expression spoke of her reluctance to give him that little bit of information.

"What do you want?" Scott repeated, his shoulders straightening as his muscles tightened and his gaze narrowed on her. Sharalin mimicked his rigid posture and her suddenly dead expression gave him a jolt of anticipatory anxiousness.

"We need to discuss Ginny Weasley."

**D/G**

Ginny came downstairs on Thursday morning, her mood matching her slumped shoulders and sluggish pace, to find the dining room empty. She frowned, the lines cutting into her pale skin.

She had slept through breakfast and well into the morning. It was now time for lunch but she had hardly thought that Draco would begrudge her some much needed rest after the previous night's expedition. Hell - her body needed more recuperation time as it was. But Ginny had hauled herself out of bed anyways and reluctantly dressed for another day. Another day having passed without Blaise alive - another sunrise and sunset, and everything in between, he had missed.

It was, by no means, getting any easier for her to keep on living - without him - but the day before had been busy and that busyness, along with Draco's company, had passed the time quicker. Maybe her small bouts of forgetting about Blaise, or not remembering him in some moments, was causing her to be extra fidgety, extra on edge and anxious. Guilt tugged at the fibers of her being and that deep remorse, that shame in finding contentment with someone else - if even for only a few hours - gnawed at her consciousness as she walked from the dining room towards the kitchens.

The utter silence of the Manor evaporated as she passed through the swinging door into the hustle and bustle of the industrial sized kitchen. About a dozen House elves were scurrying around, carrying a plate of food or moving dishes here or there, but Ginny did not see Armando in the mix of creatures. A small, feminine elf dressed in a green tea towel approached her, a dish rag wrapped around her hands as she wrung it dry.

"Mipsey is here, Misses Weasley. What can Mipsey do for the Misses?"

Ginny returned the wide smile that Mipsey wore and softened as she spoke gently to the elf.

"Where is Draco? I came down for lunch but he is no where to be found."

Mipsey puffed up her chest and beamed proudly.

"Master Draco is outside, he is. He gave Mipsey instructions to bring the Misses Weasley to him when she woke."

"Outside?"

Mipsey's large head bobbled. "Master Draco is with Kristopher, the Master's trainer. Master is practicing his drills."

Wrinkles creased her forehead as Ginny frowned. A small part of her pride was wounded that Draco had not invited her to train with him. He knew better than anyone else how relaxing and mind numbing a body training session was and internally she bristled at his second ignorance of her that day.

"Take me to him please," Ginny curtly told Mipsey through pursed lips and the elf, thinking she had done something wrong, dropped her bulbous head and nodded solemnly.

As soon as they approached the highly hedged field near the back of the estate Ginny felt foolish for the anger that had multiplied on the walk from the Manor. Mipsey paused in the mouth of the large, living barrier and she stopped short, almost running into the small elf as her eyes danced across the grassy area which was currently outfitted as a tennis court.

Of course - Kristopher was Draco's personal trainer and world renowned, avid sports enthusiast. Stories from her memory floated to the top of her thoughts as Ginny remembered Draco explaining one crazy activity or sport that his hellish trainer had put him through. And if she recalled correctly, Draco had saved her an enormous amount of time by not inviting her to the beyond grueling workout that morning.

On the end of the court nearest the entrance, Ginny took in Kristopher, his back to them as he shouted at Draco. "Faster!" He screamed. Then "Control! Control it!" He did not seem bothered by the chilly February wind and easily bounced on his feet, the panels of his cut off shirt billowing against his well muscled torso. Kristopher made an animalistic sound, something between a grunt and a disparaging laugh, and swung a golden racket towards the fastly approaching red ball.

Quicker than her eyes could move, the ball was soaring back over the net with a loud thwack. She hadn't noticed Mipsey leave but Ginny was grateful for the semi privacy that it afforded her as she glanced around before fully stepped into the arena. Wrapping her arms around her chest to keep herself warm, she silently moved sideways and leaned backwards against the hedge. The leafy barrier seemed to move and cushion her stance, adjusting to her weight so that she nearly blended in with the foliage. Comfortable, Ginny took the time to take in her fill of Draco, watching with precise eyes as he danced across the grass court and languidly swung at the zooming red ball. She was so absorbed in his fluid movements that his abrupt stop, followed by Kristopher's colorful swearing, jolted her from the trance-like state.

The two men walked to the middle of the court and she bit her bottom lip to suppress a grin when Draco smiled and shook hands with the beefy trainer. His silver eyes darted to her and she felt caught, her insides turning to liquid, before he nodded towards her once and returned his attention to Kristopher. So he had noticed her standing there watching him. The grin expanded her lips as she lightly shook her head, somehow astonished that she had only just now realized that Draco had brought her out here to ogle his rigid regime.

"Wizard's tennis, eh?" She asked as he strode across the court. Kristopher tossed her a grimace, though Ginny assumed it was his attempt at a smile, and kept walking through the hedged entrance.

"I had to do something while you slept the day away," Draco remarked, a smirk moving his bow lips as he tossed a white towel over his shoulder.

"It's only half noon - I didn't sleep the _whole day _away. And why would I have wanted to get up for _that _anyways? Only a severely mental person would torture themselves with exercise like that," Ginny teased.

"Oh yea?" Draco challenged, his grey eyes dancing as he turned to lead her out of the hedged court.

She could see beads of sweat rolling down his fair skin and Ginny cursed under her breath as she looked further up to focus on Draco's face. He casually tossed an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her upper arm in the most friendly way possible. His touch sparked every nerve ending in her right arm and her head seemed to swim with his close proximity. His voice vibrated across the hairs standing on end across her body - he was talking!

". . . but - you wouldn't be interested - would you?"

Draco kept walking for several paces while Ginny remained quiet. What was she doing out here with him? How had she gotten so wrapped up in just being with Draco that she had forgotten everything else?

"Ginny?" He questioned, her feet automatically stopping as he too quit moving. Draco turned sideways, dropped his arm, and snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Ginny."

She shook her head of the foggy thoughts, her eyes blinking several times as, at first, she took in their surroundings behind him before hesitantly focusing on Draco. He was staring at her with his brows raised concernedly, his lips barely parted as he took in her vague appearance. His gaze was so strong, so insistent on seeing to her well being, that Ginny was too roughly reminded of a similar look from her recent dream of Blaise. Guilt tore her watering brown eyes from his now worried face and with her chin lightly kissing her chest she somehow managed a short, nervous laugh at the long, awkward pause.

"I'm sorry," she explained with a jerky voice. "I just - I got caught up in some - memories. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine soon enough."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Draco asked, bending at the waist to peer at her face even though she kept it hidden from his direct gaze.

Ginny nodded too eagerly, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Draco didn't move and stared unblinkingly at her, knowing how it unnerved her. Sensing that he wasn't going to lay off it, Ginny tucked her arms around her chest and plastered a fake smile on her face.

"See? I'm fine," she emphasized her falsely bright words by snapping her head up and increasing the broad smile.

Not at all convinced, and more than slightly worried by her mood swing, Draco ground his teeth together and straightened his posture. He too crossed his arms, considering both options he had in way of dealing with Ginny. The dark circles under her eyes and the swallow pallor to her skin attested to the fact that she was still not sleeping, and he could almost clearly see the grief etched into the hollows of her face. She still needed time to reflect and come to terms with Blaise's death. She didn't need an overly flirtatious suitor - she needed a friend.

"Okay," Draco responded skeptically. "But if your mum comes barking down my door because you got injured when we were flying - I'll be telling you I told you so."

"We're going flying?" Ginny's entire demeanor brightened and for a split second the smile on her face was genuine.

"We are if you're feeling up to it," Draco said hopefully.

"You bet your ass I'm feeling up it!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

_There she is, _Draco thought, happy for the flickering moment that the fiery and snarky Ginny he knew and loved was back.

"Well let's go," he prodded with sarcastic impatience. "We don't have all day, ya know."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, her hands going to her hips, so that she looked like a giant five year old. Draco laughed, earning him a mocking scowl, and she darted around to run down the hill towards the full scale Quidditch pitch. He shook his head, blonde locks brushing his damp neck, and took off after her.

The two friends found their brooms and soared into the sky to enjoy the last few hours of sunlight. There was no mention of Malloy or Blaise or Ron. They kept the banter light and by dusk, their bodies were exhausted and their faces hurt from smiling too much. There would be time for talk of serious things tomorrow. But right then, with the wind in her face and a loyal companion lazily circling her before a chase, Ginny could only think of flying and the excuse it gave her brain to shut off.

**D/G**

Ron woke up feeling groggy, his head seemingly swelled beyond its size and ready to burst. After finding the other side of his bed empty, he slowly trotted out of the master suite to find Hermione. After searching for several minutes and looking in every room, he was stumped as to where his wife was. He couldn't remember her reminding him of any activities or appointments she had scheduled for that day and he habitually returned to the kitchen to check the magical calendar on the refrigerator.

Nothing was marked on the corresponding date and again Ron tried to remember the previous night, if Hermione had mentioned something to him. The entire evening came up as a blank in his head and he scowled, pulling out a chair and getting halfway to a seated position before he noticed two vials and a note on the opposite counter. Hermione's neat handwriting filled the small square of parchment, stating that she had taken Rose to the Burrow so she could go to the library, and Ron frowned at the dismissive note, crumpling it into a ball that he threw across the kitchen.

What had he done last night? Why were his memories so foggy?

Ron laid his hands, palm down, across the table and scrunched his brow. He could remember going to get a sandwich from a deli in Diagon Alley for lunch and eating it in office at the Ministry. He had pushed papers after that, watchful of the other Aurors who were wandering around looking for gossip, and made an excuse about getting some fresh air, so that he could call Hermione - sometime after four o'clock.

That was when things began to get hazy. Ron could recall something about the case - about Ginny. Had they caught a break and found a lead on her whereabouts? But certainly something to do with Hightower would have jogged his memory - especially if she had gone out of her way to relay new information to the pesky co-worker, and brother of the victim, who mercilessly hounded her for updates. Maybe - Harry, then? - had he been the one to tell Ron about something or other to do with Ginny?

Glancing down, Ron caught the smudge of his reflection on the glass vials and he picked one up with blank curiosity. _Pepper Up Potion _was scrawled in Hermione's small script and he grabbed the other one to read _Calming Draft _on the label. He quickly uncorked the first, downing its smooth contents in one gulp and ignoring the steam pouring from his ears, and pushed the second aside. Once he needed a reason to calm down, he would take it. But until then Ron was determined to piece together the puzzle of his memories without losing his edge to a potion.

The Auror office within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic was relatively calm for a Thursday morning, though Ron suspected it was because Feinstein, Howards, Linnebaugh, and Dinkleton were all on assignments and not because of pure luck. Lois didn't even look up from the files she was sorting as he walked through the reception area and Ron tilted his chin up a little higher as he bypassed the snotty witch. The open room cluttered with desks and entry level Aurors sprang to life as he opened one side of the double doors. Pieces of parchment folded like airplanes zoomed through the ajar door and flew around the room in speedy circles until landing lightly on their recipient's desk. Junior Aurors were scrambling around, clutching stacks of paper or attempting not to spill a cup of coffee, and Ron blocked out the snippets of conversations he heard as he weaved through the maze of desks.

He felt several pairs of eyes on him as he walked, his own gaze staying straight ahead as his cheeks flushed and his hands twitched. Did they know about his conversation with Hightower? Were they watching him for signs of embarrassment? - or pride? Ron hurried around the last corner and quickened his stride as he approached the tangle of hallways consisting of workrooms and private offices. Unfortunately, or fortunately - though not in his opinion, his office was two doors down from Sharalin Hightower's and he not-too-discretely craned his neck to see if the lights were on in her office.

Thankfully her door was closed and the room was dark but that did not ease the confusion on Ron's mind. His memories from the night before still had not cleared and he began to consider the other possibilities for that reasoning as he stepped into his magically enhanced office. The pacifying sight of the Thames River behind the charmed windows should have given him the calm that it usually did but Ron only glanced at the scenic view before tossing off his robes and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Surely, somewhere on his desk, there was evidence of what little he remembered; certainly there had to be some sort of physical proof that he had not imagined those snippets of seeing Ginny saddened and so visibly distraught. Blind determination drove his actions and soon enough every piece of parchment, every book, and every single file was thrown onto the floor as Ron skimmed every document and written word in search of a clue.

Frustrated and covered in a light sheen of sweat, Ron flopped down into his squeaky, leather chair an hour later with no success in finding anything new on his desk. He could vaguely recall about ninety-five percent of the papers or files in front of him and the remaining few were dated so far back that he wondered how they were still cluttered amongst his current duties. The springs creaked as he leaned backwards and for all he was worth, Ron wished he would have paid more attention to Hermione when she had attempted to teach him and Harry meditation and memory recovery tricks. Certainly those skills would be easier to put into practice rather than the daunting task of asking Hightower herself which now laid before him. Ron saw no other option than confronting the head Auror on his sister's case - nothing anyways that would give him answers as immediately as he wanted them.

His hands were braced against the arms of the chair, positioned and ready to push him up from sitting, when he hopelessly remembered that Hightower wasn't in her office. Which meant she was out following a lead or - or barking commands at the junior Aurors in the requested surveillance room. Ron felt like an utter fool for not thinking of the lackeys in the first place and was eagerly jumping to his feet before the thought was finished in his head. A new optimism filled his chest with the air of raw anticipation and he could feel the rising eagerness like a crawling of ants beneath his skin. Ron seized the door knob and twisted, swinging the door open as he bolted through the wooden archway and into the corridor lined with dozens of identical frames.

He had barely moved his hips to turn with his quick feet when the sound of muffled footsteps, the exact, light thump of high heels striding along the carpeted hallway, caught his attention. It could be Hightower, returning from a meeting. _More likely a Junior, _Ron thought to pacify the spike in his heart rate but he still slowed his long stride to a crawl and tentatively looked over his shoulder.

His stomach seized up and his shoulders tensed - he had forgotten that there were worse people than Hightower to run into in an empty hallway.

Namely Pansy Parkinson.

Their gazes met in the same instant and a predatory smile immediately curved her red lips as Pansy sashayed her hips with each step. Ron could hardly turn and run away now. He maneuvered his body, angling towards the approaching witch, and pulled a heavy sneer across his expression as she came into better detail, stopping barely four feet in front of him.

"Hello Weasel," Pansy greeted Ron and her antagonistic but harmlessly curious tone caught him off guard.

"What are you doing here, Parkinson? - back for another round of interrogation?" Ron snapped.

Her violet eyes narrowed slightly as barely noticeable lines wrinkled the corners, her mouth parting so that the caps of her pearly teeth showed as she chuckled indulgently.

"I have assisted the Aurors in every way possible, why on Earth would they ask me back for questioning?" Pansy asked rhetorically, one arm folding across her chest as the other brought her hand near to her face so she could mock his seriousness and place her chin in her palm thoughtfully.

"Because you're involved in all of this somehow!" Ron fumed, his voice raising almost to shout. He realized his folly and glanced behind her, making sure no one was nearby as he roughly whispered so as not to be overheard. "_You and your lot _got your claws into Ginny and now look what you've done to her! You robbed her of her innocence and now she's a wanted fugitive because of your influence!"

"I know it may be hard for you to believe, _Weasel -" _Pansy had dropped all semblance of niceties and her expression could have been carved of stone for the lack of emotion she was showing. "- but we take care of our own - through good _and_ bad. Ginny is like a sister to me and even if I _did_ know something - even if reporting whatever I knew would put her in Azkaban - I would do it. Because even though I love Ginny, and as much as she would hate me for it, she is not above reproach. Nor should anyone else be."

"She is _my _sister_!_" Ron bellowed, his face red as he stepped forward and puffed up his chest. "Ginny is my sister and you have no right to even entertain the idea that _you _would be responsible for her punishment. Your band of criminals should forget that you even had any sort of association with her." Ron took one last step so that he and Pansy were inches apart, the lapels of their clothing grazing as each gave away nothing but a dangerous and hard stare. "Otherwise - I will see to it personally that the entire lot of you rots in Azkaban for the rest of your lives."

Pansy tilted her chin up defiantly and locked her jaw. "Is that a threat, Weasley?"

"I've waited thirteen years to see you loathsome Slytherins receive the punishment you deserve," Ron stated with all of the hatred he had acquired for his nemeses since he was eleven. "Once again you have used Ginny to your own advantages - manipulating her to meet your ends. You have used up your last get out of jail free card and this case - and your involvement - will be your undoing."

There were no words to describe just exactly how angry Pansy was in that moment. Ron could not see past his own prejudices to realize that Ginny had been happier in the past eighteen months than she had been her entire life. He was still stuck in his good and evil, everything is black or white, mentality and she was nonplussed by his continued judgmental outlook. Because Pansy knew that despite everything that Ron had seen during the war and apart from all of the "good" that he was publicized doing, he still could not understand that people could change and that a person's past actions should not define them forever.

Pansy smirked. "Funny you say that, since I'm actually here to see if you've found anything new on Ginny's whereabouts. Why would I waste my time and come all the way down here if I was involved with hiding a known fugitive?"

Ron's cobalt gaze narrowed even further, the angry spittle from his tantrum flying across the short space to spray her face. "I think you would do anything to hide the ties you have to Zabini's murder. My sister did not kill him - not in her right mind and certainly not without you forcing her. You want to stay two steps ahead of the Aurors - but I'm on to you, Parkinson."

His circling tirade was giving her a headache and Pansy most definitely did not want to have this loathsome Weasley ruin her already brooding mood. Ron had never been a serious threat to her and her friends and that was not going to change with a little intimidation rooted in a false protectiveness over his nearly estranged sister.

"The only thing you would be _on to_ is my lack of a sex life since two of my best friends were murdered or went missing," Pansy hissed, deflating the small remaining shreds of a tamed front and curling her upper lip as she gave Ron a disgusted once over. "You should take a long, hard look in the mirror and ask yourself if what you're saying is really true. You're delusional, Weasley, if you think that we had anything to do with Blaise's death. But then again - maybe you are just as stubborn as Ginny if you still believe that we're the bad guys."

"Don't you _dare _talk about Ginny like you know her - like you care about her!" Ron seethed, his face coming close to purple as he loomed over Pansy.

"I could say the same for you," Pansy replied in a deadly calm voice.

She gave him a long pausing look, neither blinking until Pansy lightly snorted, angry amusement dancing in her violet eyes, and easily turned around. Ron's mouth fell open and he sputtered incoherently as she continued walking, her stride quick and purposeful.

It would only take him a minute and his feet were already moving anyways. Ron took off after Pansy, not caring in the slightest that he was going to make a scene in front of most of his colleagues. He did not have to guess why the Junior's pit of desks were near silent as he sprinted through the aisles, keeping his eyes on Pansy's small frame as he felt everyone turn to watch him follow her. She jerked open the left side of the double doors into the reception room and snapped it shut behind her, the resounding bang jump starting his heart as Ron sprinted the final few yards to mimic her actions.

"Tell Hightower I'll be back later to talk to her," Pansy was barking at Lois and the gold embossed elevator dinged its arrival as Ron hurled himself into the small waiting room.

"Parkinson!" He bellowed and his teeth gnashed together when she did not react, merely darting into the elevator and spinning around as the door inched shut.

"Parkinson!" Ron repeated but all he got in response was her middle finger and a cheeky grin as Pansy zoomed backwards with the magicked elevator.

**.**

**.**

**A/N: **Meh. I didn't really like this chapter but as always, some things have to happen for the story to progress in the right way. Drop me a review and let me know what you think.


	12. Defiance

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue.**

**.**

**Chapter Twelve - Defiance**

**.**

For the second time in as many nights Ginny found herself pressed up against her bedroom door, one ear molded to the wooden surface as she listened for Draco to enter his own chambers. Blood was pumping quickly and for the most part all she heard was the thumping of her heart but she closed her eyes and focused, concentrating on the noises beyond her immediate vicinity. Both hands were braced against the door and she sagged against the upright surface with impatient relief when she finally heard Draco's bedroom door open and close.

Though evading him was going to prove to be the biggest challenge, Ginny knew the larger portion of her night was going to be as equally nerve wracking. She still had to wait at least thirty minutes before she left the Manor but that time would dwindle quickly if she did not get ready and thoroughly go over her plans. If she was going to do this tonight - alone - she had to make sure she was absolute in every decision that she made. Once Draco found out about this he was going to be rip roaring mad but with any luck Ginny would be able to save them precious time in finding Blaise's killer and that alone would earn her mercy from his wrath.

Dressed in black from head to toe, Ginny securely buttoned her wool coat and removed her wand from her sleeve. Pointing it at her feet, she cast a strong _Muffliato_ on her body, raising the wand up and down her figure to cover her entire frame, and then rendered herself invisible. Crossing her fingers that Draco did not have supernatural senses and double checking the clock, Ginny crept to her bedroom door and slowly twisted the brass knob. The hallway was dark except for the soft glow of several dimmed lamps scattered along the winding length and she immediately craned her neck through the doorway and to the left to stare at Draco's bedroom. The lights were off, leading her to hope he was lying in bed asleep, yet she did not move forward. Ginny was stuck in the archway, suddenly frozen and wondering if she was doing the right thing by going behind his back.

As soon as she seriously reconsidered her plans though, for what seemed like the hundredth time, there was no hesitation in her movements. Ginny had to do this. There was no other option. If they waited any longer to finally _do _something, to make actual progress in their crusade, there would be no time left at all. Blaise's murderer would have gotten away and she would be put in Azkaban for killing the man she loved. Too many days had already vanished in the blink of an eye, too many hours slipped through their fingers while everyone searched for Ginny.

Some part of her knew that she was doing this tonight because of her guilt. Guilt over Blaise, guilt over her stupidity in choosing to spend an entire week hiding out instead of contacting Pansy, and the rest of her friends. Ginny had wasted seven days when she could have been hunting down the real criminal. She had let the sadness and depression consume her instead of focusing and thinking logically. But she was going to make it up tonight - Ginny was going to show Draco that she was not just some sad sack who needed his every direction and decision.

The glass doors silently slid back into place behind her as she soundlessly walked through the garden towards the ring of roses. Thin, whispy clouds covered the moon, giving her little light in way of maneuvering, and Ginny edged around the shadows of bushes until she reached the center. Turning around to face the Manor, quietly holding her breath that Draco wasn't coming after her, she retrieved her wand and solidly gripped the maple wood.

Anxious to begin her short travels, Ginny flicked the wand at her side and mentally pictured her destination. Her insides shrank down until she felt herself become a single dot traveling through the molecules of time and space. Soon enough the Apparation gave way and she found her wobbly footing in a recently familiar alley.

Ginny glanced up and down the disgusting length, her eyes probing the shadows as she nervously pulled her coat tighter around her body. The Cloaking spell was still in place but she was almost certain that the rodents and drunken bums had felt a shift in the energy when she arrived.

Not entirely wanting to be ran into by a stranger or announce her presence by shrieking at a scampering mouse, Ginny tucked her hands under her opposing arms and hurried down the darkened alley. Crumpled pieces of the newspaper crunched beneath her boots and a strong gust of wind blew a plastic bag up against her leg. Ginny aimlessly kicked her foot in a circle to dislodge the garbage and mumbled her rising frustration as the flimsy object caught the breeze once more. She kept her eyes peeled for the almost unnoticeable door but still had to double back when she walked farther down the alley than she remembered.

Glancing around to reaffirm that no one had spotted her, Ginny grabbed her wand in her coat pocket and wiggled it around as she wordlessly removed the Cloaking spell. Anxious to be visible for any prolonged period of time, she scurried into the slight alcove and hovered against the door. Raising a balled fist to the metal surface she rapped out the exact pattern that Draco had used.

_Knock. _

_Knock knock. _

_Knock. _

_Knock. _

_Knock knock. _

Nothing happened for a moment. Ginny dared not turn around to stare at the swiveling camera and waited anxiously for the handleless door to pop open. Then one minute, then two, passed and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from pounding on the door and screaming for Malloy to let her in. Completely aggravated with his apparent reluctance, Ginny spun around and threw her hands up in the air, her face fully visible to the camera as she scowled at the inanimate object.

Two breaths later the lock clicked out of place and the door scarcely swung on its hinges.

Ginny rapidly slid her fingers into the slight, open space and yanked the door ajar, tossing her hand behind her back to give the camera the middle finger before she snapped it shut. The long, deserted hallway was just as she remembered it but the barren nature of the corridor did not lead her to believe that she was alone in this part of the decrepit building. The Cloaking spell was erected again as soon as the door closed and Ginny wasted no time in sprinting down the hallway, her feet expertly dodging the random object littering the ground.

Malloy's security measures were nonexistent as she flicked her wand at the second doorway and easily unlocked it. The upscale waiting room looked exactly the same but she hardly noticed the decorations as she tore through the small space to the third door. Her hand reached for the brass handle and she paused momentarily to remove her invisibility once more. No sense in giving Malloy a complete heart attack when she appeared in his office out of thin air.

The white room gave no indication as to where the Muggle was but Ginny went for the door on the left first, already knowing where Malloy was hiding. She waved a hand at the lock and wandlessly opened the door, letting herself in as the darkness of his office engulfed her.

At first she could only see the brightness of the television screens and computer monitors. Everything was bathed in shadows and Ginny blinked quickly as she glanced around. At once she recognized the hulking outline that blocked a few screens from her view. Malloy did not move a muscle with her sudden appearance and she awkwardly stood there for a moment, rapidly weighing her options. Ginny scuffed her boot on the rug and twisted at the waist, reaching back for the door and pushing it shut with a loud bang.

Still Malloy did not budge. Growing more annoyed by the second, she impatiently cleared her throat and stepped sideways to get a better look at what he was so focused on.

The screens that she could not see came into view and something dropped through her stomach as she realized they were showing feeds from different cameras throughout the building. One in particular, the screen directly in front of Malloy's seat, was on a recorded loop. Ginny pushed down her panic as she watched her video self come through the front door. And then disappear two seconds later. Nothing happened for a moment before the clip returned to the beginning and she was entering the hallway once more.

"Drake would never tell me what exactly he does," Malloy began, his voice wavering between accusation and slight fear. "From the - _things _that he has had me do for him - I had gathered that he works for some intelligence agency." He swiveled around in the too-small, creaking chair and eyed Ginny as if there was not enough distance between them. "But you're something else," Malloy finished, a pique of curiosity furrowing his brows as his lips came together.

"Who we are, or what we do, is none of your concern," Ginny stated icily, doing her best to imitate Draco. Inside her stomach was in her throat and her lungs felt like thin sheets of paper stuck together. "You were recommended for the task because of your clean reputation for silence. If that is no longer the case, then there are ways that we can resolve this very quickly."

The whites of Malloy's eyes expanded to appear as quarter sized, bright discs amidst the darkness of the room. Ginny would have found it comical if this Muggle did not hold the technological answers to her mindbending questions. His right hand fidgeted on his lap and the bulking man looked away from her piercing stare.

"What did you find on the camera?" Ginny asked a moment later when Malloy seemed too frightened by the threat of death to speak. She tried to sound as comforting as she usually did with suspects but she still heard the hardness to her words.

Hesitantly, as if she were going to whip out a gun with the smallest movement from him, Malloy shuffled his feet over the floor and rotated around to face the monitors again. When he finally spoke again, Ginny could tell that his eyes were darting to the side to watch her but noticed that he grew calmer as he delved deeper into his element.

"I had to hack through some pretty heavy security walls first but it was all fairly simple once I got in to the server. I was able to access all of the other camera feeds that this one is connected to on the network - but -" Malloy fidgeted, almost unwilling to admit the small mistake he had encountered. "But - I could only recover the recordings from the last thirty days."

Something in the shaking tone of his voice sent off the alarms in Ginny's head, though she was relieved that his bad news wasn't as dire as she had feared. Panic seized her gut once more and she took an intimidating step forward, her slight frame still appearing small as she stood over Malloy.

"Drake _told you _not to watch the videos," she said with a threatening calm to her words.

"I-I-I di-didn't!" Malloy sputtered, straightening in his chair as he pushed off of one foot to wheel a few feet to her left. "I swear! I didn't look at anything!"

She could have easily used Legilimency to poke through his memories and see if he was telling the truth but one glance at the digital clock told Ginny she was already wasting time there. Fear can strike hold of a person and have a way of keeping their mouth shut. Though surely his outrageous payment and Draco's fierce warning would have been enough to avert his interest in the actual footage.

"Did you store all of the files on a flash drive?"

Malloy's head jerked, the band of dreadlocks swaying heavily, and his thick brows inched up his forehead. His expression became threaded with confusion and his eyes narrowed with hesitant confirmation.

"Of course."

"Give it to me," Ginny whispered urgently.

He dropped a small, black rectangle onto her outstretched palm and sharply recoiled his arm as she clutched the object tightly in her fist. Malloy leaned back, his chest expanding as his shoulders fell over the back of the chair, and attempted to discretely roll backwards. Ginny eyed his protective motions but said nothing. She dropped the flash drive into the pocket of her coat and retrieved a very fat roll of one hundred pound notes from the magically enlarged jacket feature, pilfered compliments of Draco. It rolled across the scatterings of paper atop his desk and slowed to a stop against the spine of a thick, dusty tome. His dark eyes were immediately drawn to the wad of money and again he seemed at a loss for words.

"That should cover it," Ginny said dismissively, not having to state that it was a smooth fifty thousand pounds for his services.

Completely speechless, and most likely taken aback by her bluntness, Malloy gaped open-mouthed and stared unblinkingly at her suddenly calm demeanor. He was never one to judge but Drake and his business associate were odd to a degree that even he had never experienced before. He supposed their strange and alluring behavior came as baggage with their jobs and for the millionth time he wondered what it was they really did. Little did he realize how enormously Ginny was freaking out. A beat of heart-striking grief had engulfed her when he handed over the flash drive and only the automatic raising of her protective walls had saved her from showing the waves of emotions she was feeling. Exchanging payment for the small object had furthered her rapidly increasing understanding and she was growing more frantic by the second as the memory device burned an imagined hole in her pocket.

"I'll see myself out," Ginny said to deaf ears and Malloy mutely nodded as he reached for the wad of money.

Again she waited until she was in the very dimly lit lounge to cast a Cloaking spell and the instant she saw her body disappear, Ginny sprinted for the opposite door. Her feet barely touched the dirty ground as she ran down the hallway and threw one hand out to unlock the exiting door before darting through to the alleyway beyond. She did not stop once she got outside though. Ginny expertly turned the corner and ran towards the poorly lit street. She did not hear the angry shouts of drunken men nor did she see the confused looks of two prostitutes that glanced around when she breezed past them.

She needed to stop for air but her legs wouldn't quit running. She had to get away from the looming shadow that sent shivers down her spine, the feeling that she was being watched and criticized and judged. The weight of the flash drive in her pocket was like a boulder slowing her down and Ginny knew at once that she could not return to Malfoy Manor without looking through the footage first. Which meant her nighttime excursion just got a little bit longer.

**D/G**

My lungs are on fire and I lost feeling in my legs somewhere around five minutes ago. But I'm still running. The only thing that's really keeping me from stopping is the fact that I'm Cloaked.

No one can see me but the second they can my face will be recognized and the authorities will be alerted. Which is the exact opposite of what I want to happen.

As my feet continue to slap against the concrete, and sometimes gravel, hot tears stream down my flushed cheeks. Sweat rolls off my brow and mixes with the salty liquid, the combination sliding across my lips and whetting my dry lips as I struggle to inhale without a stitch in my side burning to life. My body is entirely too warm beneath the several layers of clothing I'm wearing but the weight urges me forward, giving me a reason to hurry up and find my destination. I am both eager and hesitant to scroll through the videos. The visual proof will just be one more nail in the coffin to the reality of this horrific situation - the truth to Blaise's death. Because if Draco's right, and the cameras were able to capture all of the footage from that fateful morning, then I am ultimately choosing to watch the man I loved die. I am electing to watch Blaise be killed through a security measure put in place to prevent such a occurrence.

I have to find somewhere, some place Muggle, to access the digital files but at this late hour nothing is open. I've already thought of the university and public libraries and any all-hour internet cafes would be too public for me to slip in and use a computer undetected. I can't go back to the Manor without watching them first - I just can't. I can't be in the same room with Draco when I see Blaise take his last breath. The emotions alone would most likely spark a rushed situation and I am not entirely prepared to take on the guilt of emotionally cheating on Blaise, even in his current posthumous state.

I was not at all sure where the actual location of Malloy's building was when I Apparated from the Manor earlier tonight and now that small detail, that somehow slipped my mind whilst I was chatting with the Muggle, is biting me in the ass. I literally have no idea what town or city I am in and the inky darkness is doing nothing to soothe my escalating panic. It's not like I have never done a 'mission' by myself, there have been plenty of nights where I was the lone wolf and working a lead on my own, but this is different. This outing was spurred on by guilt and a growing taste of revenge, two emotions that have caused me to act without letting anyone know of my whereabouts in the past, and again tonight. What if something really does happen to me? What will Draco think? What will he _do_?

The tree lined street I have turned onto seems to be in a better area than where I began my run from and when I spot a sagging bench with peeling green paint, I too eagerly slow to a jog until I melt into a puddle of limbs across the wooden seat. Sluggishly I rotate so that I am lying on my back, my legs dangling over one side of the bench, and lazily bend my arm to rest underneath my head. The hand draped across my stomach feels heavy as my chest rises and falls with my panting breaths and my eyes clamp shut as the outer limits of my vision begin to blur.

It takes a few minutes but slowly my inhalations become steady and I crack open one eye as the sounds of the night echo loudly in my ears. An animal scurries over dry leaves, the rustle of twigs and grass fluttering with a chilly breeze that sways the bare tree limbs above me. Through the tangled mass of hibernating branches, twinkling stars wink at me as they disappear behind slow moving clouds, silently rattling my chains and mocking my predicament.

I have to think.

Somewhere that isn't too public. Somewhere that would allow me a semblance of privacy for at least a few minutes. All I really need is a computer. Anywhere will be fine, really. Somewhere with a private office and a computer. MNZ was my first thought but we have too many tech nerds on staff for me to be able to bypass the firewalls and keep my late night presence a secret. It would be easy enough for me to slip inside and boot up the computer at the front desk though - the same computer that the night guard is surely using at this very moment to play solitaire or look for porn. Draco would not be able to phone in and demand that each of the computer's histories be erased, not if he's 'out of town.' And Pansy, or anyone else, would not think to review the security cameras for footage of an invisible person breaking in. Technically my presence there would virtually go undetected.

I'm bolting to an upright position before I can change my mind and I swing my legs off the arm of the bench as my hands nervously run up and down my thighs. It's going to be risky but I've already snuck out of Malfoy Manor, eluded Draco, and traveled to one of Britain's less desirable neighborhoods. What risk am I really taking if I steal into my own workplace for a few short minutes?

"No safer place than that which is familiar," I tell myself in an attempt to pacify my always jittery nerves but the shaky words only make me question my sanity further.

My wand is in hand as I hesitantly get to my feet, my legs as unsteady as my collective train of thought. The maple wood warms in my grasp and I clutch on to its familiarity as I tentatively shift my weight from side to side.

"Now or never," I say, unsure if my rushed plan is really worth the consequences I could face if I am caught. "Now or never," I repeat and my wrist jerks the wand before I can rethink the decision. The pull of Apparation is slightly comforting but the uncertainty of what I will find on the flash drive when I get to MNZ is what hurdles my stomach into my throat and forces me to catch my balance a split second later when I suddenly appear in front of an all too familiar building.

The streets are quiet and nary a soul is out as Big Ben chimes two o'clock in the distance. A lamp post casts a bright light across the wide glass doors but my shadow is nonexistent as I hurry up the short steps and wave a hand at the entrance. My magic will interfere with whatever Muggle alarms are in place and I can only hope that there is not a magical alert system rigged to notify Draco or Pansy or someone equally as powerful within the company. The door is hanging open a few inches and I know not to worry about the nighttime security guard, a Squib named Luther, who is probably raiding one of the employee fridges upstairs. Pulling the glass panel open just wide enough to slip through, I delicately close it behind me before scanning the darkened and completely lifeless lobby.

It feels like ages since I have been here, striding through the entrance, smiling at the receptionists, and walking onto an elevator, but my reminiscing is cut short when I see a small circle of glowing light coming from a lamp on the Muggle reception desk. The Wizarding entrance is on the other side of the ceiling length waterfall and it only appears as a door that reads 'Authorized Personal Only' to any Muggles who get curious while they're waiting for the elevators. There is no doubt that Luther was camped out here before he got bored and wandered upstairs but I cannot dwaddle and risk him coming back to find a computer being invisibly manned.

The heels of my boots click rapidly against the tile as I dart across the open lobby and rush behind the defense of the desk. My left arm reaches over my body to jiggle the computer's mouse as my right hand dips into the recesses of my coat pocket, shaking slightly as my fingers fumble with expanding the USB port. I sit down and roll the flimsy chair away from the desk, bending over as I try to remember where the flash drive goes on this ancient machine.

I'm frustrated soon enough and I'm halfway to reaching for my wand to cast a quick _Lumos _when the distinct chime of the elevator echos loudly in the silence of the building. My entire body tenses as I listen for the telltale sliding of the electronic doors and I immediately jump up when Luther's footsteps sound against the tiled floor and his low whistling follows his arrival. The flash drive drops back into my pocket and my eyes zip to the darkened archway that leads to the elevators.

He knows to be on guard for magical break-ins as well as Muggle tactics and I cannot let a single noise mark my exit. I need a distraction, something to keep Luther occupied long enough for me to slip back out the front doors. His lumbering shadow turns the corner and I only have a few seconds before he approaches the desk and sits down. I'm frantically looking around the lobby to find something to topple over and grab his attention when my eyes catch on the brightened computer screen. A website for streaming music is pulled up and I see my out when I notice the mouse hovering over the 'play' symbol at the top of the window. Reaching for the wireless mouse, I hurriedly click on the digital button and jump back when the speakers come to life.

Luther swears nearby and his footsteps pick up to a breathy jog as I run around the desk and bolt for the glass doors. There isn't time for me to look back and make sure that he isn't fumbling for a flashlight or his cell phone. One hand waves at the steel handle and the other arm reaches out to push open the door, the same hand grabbing the handle on the outside as I ease it back into place. My palms press against the glass on either sides of my eyes and my breath fogs the transparent panel as I squint to see Luther through the expansive lobby. The music volume has been lowered and he is gazing around the desk in search of the fallen object that must have set off the noise.

Satisfied that he is none the wiser of my presence and double checking that the flash drive is still in my pocket, I spin around and sprint towards the stone steps and the edge of the magical barrier that will allow me to Apparate. The close call has my heart hammering against my chest and I fail to remember the possible argument that will ensue when I return to Malfoy Manor. Grasping the only thing that feels familiar to me in that moment, I flourish my wand and relish in the safety of the tug of Apparating.

**.**

**A/N: **The plot twist coming up has been reworked to fit a different direction for the story. But do not worry, nothing in previous chapters has been modified as of yet and I will announce as much if the need arises. Thank you for reading and for keeping on with this journey and tale that I am creating. Please leave me a review with some lovin (or hate if you so desire to marr my day with accepted criticism) and please know that I appreciate every bit of input that you will give me. Thank you again for reading and I look forward to surprising you with the remainder of the story.


	13. YOLO

**Everything belongs to JK. I merely do her bidding through my own plots and stories.**

**This story includes events from DH excluding the epilogue**

**.**

**Chapter Thirteen - YOLO (you only live once)**

**.**

Malfoy Manor was eerily quiet when Ginny snuck back inside, the first clock she saw reading ten minutes to three AM. She felt like every pair of eyes were watching her, every portrait silently coming to life to assess her suspicious presence at such a late hour. She may have dawdled a bit longer than necessary in the gardens, deeply weighing her present options and past choices, and now that nervous decision was causing her senses to heighten and her anxiousness to grow.

The shadows seemed to move in the corners, slithering along the walls and manifesting into a swirling mist of darkness that hurried her muffled footsteps. Moving through the endless hallways, Ginny felt like she was becoming lost as each corridor resembled the last. Malfoy Manor was a maze of doorways and long passages but she should know where she was going by now - the crazy layout wasn't exactly new to her. Still she found herself becoming slightly panicked when the hallway she was certain led to a set of stairs ended with a fork in the road. Picking up her pace and drawing closer to screaming for a house elf to assist her, Ginny made several quick turns and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a glimmering of moonlight off a pair of floor to ceiling windows at the end of the corridor - two enormous paned frames that looked out over the front lawn of the Manor and sat on the left side of the main entrance.

The ornate carpet runners absorbed the noise of her quick footsteps like a sponge but her panting breaths sounded louder than they were as she scampered up the winding staircase. Scant moonlight fell across the second floor hallway, lighting her path as Ginny bit back a yawn and blinked rapidly. Her eyes were becoming drier by the second and her limbs felt like lead after her panicked run through lesser London. With each heavy footfall she drew closer to her bed, her vision narrowing to a blurred tunnel as at last she moved into the familiarity of the south wing.

There at the end of the windowless corridor was Draco's bedroom, the mahagony double doors darkened to appear black in their arched frame. Ginny faltered as she stared at the doorway, almost certain that one side was left ajar but she pushed the thought away, deliriously hopeful that Draco was none the wiser to her adventure. She tentatively picked up one foot and proceeded to tip toe as lightly as possible towards her own bedroom. Keeping her eyes on his doorway, she crept down the hallway and tried not to sigh with relief when she made it safely to her door. Sparing a sideways glance at Draco's room, she gripped the brass knob and turned it very slowly. Feeling the door give a little as the catch slid out of the door jam Ginny steadily exhaled and gently pressed her palm against the wooden surface.

Pushing lightly, she held her breath as the door moved backwards. And then squealed loudly on its hinges. Ginny felt her stomach plummet and her heart stopped for a beat as she strained to listen for any movement. A moment passed and she dared to rotate her head, waiting until the very last second to turn her gaze to Draco's bedroom door. Her entire body went rigid, freezing completely as her eyes locked with his silver stare. His broad shoulders filled the frame of one side of the double doorway and the muscles in his forearms coiled as his arms remained crossed over his bare chest. Ginny would have been entirely too distracted by the pale marble of his naked skin if she had not been shocked by his sudden appearance - now rooted to the spot and caught in the act.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked tonelessly, his calm words slicing through the silence.

Ginny's mouth opened and closed several times as every excuse that came to mind fell short of believability. She was dressed entirely in black and was wearing the leather boots, discretely lined with sleeves for knifes and weaponry, she had flaunted so liberally after saving for weeks to buy them. There was no denying that she had been on an escapade. At least the truth would show some courage in his eyes.

"I visited Malloy," she replied simply, shrugging one shoulder lazily to keep her voice from quivering and her skin from rolling with goose bumps.

He did not blow up and storm across the hallway as she expected him to. Instead Draco's pale eyebrows shot up his forehead and he pushed his hip sideways against the door jam.

"How did you pay him?" He paused, considering what he had just said. "_Did_ you pay him?"

Ginny scoffed, the sound coming off near a laugh as she too turned to face him, keeping one hand on the door jam.

"Of course I paid him. Do you really think I would steal the downloaded videos and make off without paying? - therefore giving him motive to come and find us?" Ginny faintly smirked. "Not exactly the best idea."

"I assume you _did_ steal the money out of my office then," Draco rhetorically stated. She widened her eyes and gave him the most innocent look she could muster. He leveled her with one arched brow and a knowing stare. "Shall I go check then? Make sure the roll of notes I left in the top drawer is still there?"

He pushed off the wooden frame and uncrossed his arms, his bare feet taking long strides as he ate up the distance from his doorway to hers.

"That was for Malloy - was it not?" Ginny none too subtly questioned, failing to leave the tremor of naïve panic out of her words. She pursed her lips as Draco stopped just beside her and she darted her gaze away as she momentarily worried that the money had been intended for something else.

"And what if it wasn't?" He purred, so close now that her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled his warm, manly scent. "Do you have fifty thousand pounds to pay me back with?"

Ginny played off her automatic bodily response to his proximity by inhaling slowly and yawning widely. Her thick lashes brushed her brow bone and she pulled on all of the anger she kept locked away to curl her lips into a tightly lined smile. "You know how much money I make - you authorized my last salary adjustment."

Draco, either turned off by her mood swing or knowing when not to press her, leaned backwards in his stance and kept his mouth shut. Whether it was the very late hour making him more agreeable, Ginny did not provoke the fizzling argument. A prolonged moment passed and when he did not make a move to say anything else, she twisted the brass knob and pushed the door open a slight bit more. He cleared his throat subtly.

"Malloy was able to - download the videos then?"

Ginny nodded, her expression blank. "From the last thirty days."

"Where are they?" He asked, his lack of knowledge with technology surfacing with the, slightly, humble words.

"I have 'em." She patted her pocket. "They're safe with me."

"I don't think so," Draco argued, offering his open palm as his eyebrows formed stern arches. "Hand it over."

"You don't trust me?" Ginny's voice was almost incredulous but she cleared her throat and set her jaw. "I'm not going to slip out of the Manor again to find a computer to watch them if that's what you're thinking."

"I am not implying anything of the sort - I want to run some tests to make sure the disk was not tampered with magically. We can't be too sure that someone didn't see us last night and retrace our tracks."

Ginny was glad for the semi darkness that hid the flush that came to her cheeks. Draco was still maintaining some cordiality even though he was certainly dead tired and she felt a sweeping of shame for being stubborn instead of polite when she had been the one to pull one over him. Keeping eye contact with him, she slid one hand down into her right pocket and searched until she grasped the rectangular flash drive between her thumb and index finger. With her gloves still on she wordlessly placed the memory stick on his open palm and allowed the leathery tips to brush his bare skin as she retracted her arm.

"See - that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Just as quickly as the embarrassment passed she was struck with anger for his smug demeanor and haughty attitude. She had half a mind to snatch the flash drive back and slam the door in his face to show what she thought of his appreciation for her efforts. Gnashing her teeth together, Ginny pushed her bedroom door open and moved sideways through the frame. She turned around without a word to Draco and did part of what she spitefully wished to, flicking her wrist to snap the door backwards with a louder than intended, but still meaningful, bang.

Let him knock on the door and have to ask for entrance to her bedroom - Ginny didn't care. She was loathe to admit that she had changed to fit in with the Slytherins she worked with now but it was times like this where she knew that the years had not changed Draco one bit. He was still a spoiled child who expected everything to be handed to him without anyone batting an eyelash. His intentions may have become more honorable in the days since Hogwarts but a Malfoy was always a Malfoy and they always looked after themselves first.

As Ginny angrily tossed her coat across the sofa and agitatedly kicked off her boots, she was so lost in her fury towards Draco that she failed to hear his resigned, "See you in the morning," from the hallway. The thought did not cross her mind that his end goal was also her ultimate hope for freedom. She forgot, if even for those few hasty minutes, that Draco was risking his neck to prove her innocence and identify Blaise's real murderer. Instead, Ginny threw back the bed covers and irritatedly huffed as she squirmed underneath the sheets. Sleep came quicker than she anticipated but her last conscious thought was an image of Draco bending over and eagerly shoving his head up his own ass.

**D/G**

_Ginny stared at the gold flaked ceiling in Pansy's dressing room, one hand idly twirling a pearl necklace as she stretched her legs farther down the length of the chaise lounge chair. Her mind was blank but a frown marred her expression anyways._

_"Soooooo - what do you think?"_

_Pansy slinked around the corner from her large closet and posed seductively against the wooden frame. The new black dress she was referring to hugged her petite curves and Ginny was almost certain that it cost more than she made in a month. Well - what she used to make in a month. All of the money she was getting paid now - all of the cordial and friendly behavior from people she had been raised to be wary of - it all still felt so surreal. Six months ago she would have called someone crazy if they would have told her that she would soon be associating with so many Slytherins, working with and getting to know them. Ginny would have been tempted to call St Mungo's if someone had promised her that one day she would be hanging out at Pansy Parkinson's house and trading stories like they were old friends. Somehow, though, she felt more comfortable now than she could ever remember and that instinct alone kept her skepticism at bay._

_"That dress -" Ginny sat up and shook her head in appreciation. "Are there are left or did you threaten the store owner to take the rest off the racks so you would be the only witch wearing it?" One eyebrow arched and her pink lips quirked into a smirk._

_Pansy touched a hand to her chest with mocking, hurt surprise. "Now when have you ever known me to do something so maddeningly selfish?"_

_Ginny rolled her eyes and crossed one leg over the other at the knee as she pretended to think about a serious answer._

_"How about last week when you made Annabelle go home because she was wearing the same shade of purple as you? Or how - every time we go out to dinner you pout until Theo feeds you his dessert? Or the time you -"_

_"I _can_ demote you to actually being my secretary like you keep telling your ignorant parents, you know," Pansy sweetly remarked, cutting Ginny off as she turned to step onto the small platform in front of the three fold mirror without looking back at her friend._

_"And then who would put up with your constant chatter during assignments?" She rhetorically responded with equal cheerfulness._

_Pansy met her gaze in the reflection and made a face at the mirror._

_"When I saw this in the window at Harrod's I knew I had to buy it," Pansy stated distractedly a moment later as she rose up onto the balls of her feet as if she were wearing high heels. "Theo RSVP'ed us for that bloody Ministry Fall Gala this weekend and I agreed that I would only go if I had something absolutely smashing to wear."_

_Ginny snorted, leaning sideways against the arm of the chaise lounge. "As if you ever need an excuse to go shopping."_

_The dark haired witch shrugged a shoulder without a retort. Her violet eyes narrowed at her reflection and she turned around to get a better look at the silhouette of her backside in the mirror._

_"Blaise and Draco are going to the event," Pansy continued in a tone that suggested she was commenting on the weather though Ginny knew she was covertly scheming something. "Though last I heard neither has a date."_

_Ginny watched her expression to see what she was getting at. That careless tone of voice was meant to be persuasively underhanded, carelessly tossing out an idea for someone else to think was their own. Only this time Ginny had a fairly good idea of what Pansy was implying._

_"Poor blokes - all that money and neither can get a woman," she remarked with sarcastic pity, her pounding heart gaining speed in her chest as butterflies filled her stomach._

_"Well it's a good thing they both broke their arranged marriages or else none of us would be where we are now," Pansy said offhandedly while inspecting a faultless seam. "They would be tied up with snobby wives and bratty children - certainly not dating endless strings of women while we wait for them to mature and settle down."_

_Pansy would know Draco and Blaise, and their levels of commitment, better than she would - which only furthered the notion that her fantasies of the two wizards would remain in her head. Or maybe the evil bitch was toying with her, testing the waters and asking the personal questions that the men couldn't outright ask her. Of course Pansy's approach to any situation was usually beyond typical. Her comments were just bait to see how Ginny would respond._

_"They seemed more interested in each other than the women in the room at my surprise party a few weeks ago," Ginny commented in what she hoped was an uninterested voice, praying that Pansy couldn't read her thoughts through her expression. Images of the two handsome wizards flashed in her mind, a rapidly quickening reel of what had happened in the empty dining room spinning her head._

_Pansy snorted, her gaze still locked on herself in the mirror. "I hardly think either of them would stoop so low as to date someone on the company's payroll."_

_Ginny deflated. Did that include her? Of course it did - she was still in training, albeit a very late phase of it, and ranked much, much lower than the Chief Officers. Draco and Blaise's stunt at the party had just been to get her attention and mess with her. Maybe they played a game of who could shock someone the most or wagered on how long it took to break someone's calm demeanor._

_"Why don't they ask those Greengrass harpies?" Ginny heard herself suggest vacantly, the words sounding bored and halfhearted, though she knew they were forced and carefully mended together._

_"Those two slags would be lucky to find men half as attractive and wealthy as Draco and Blaise," Pansy flippantly replied, suddenly spinning around and stepping off the pedestal. She ran both hands through her shoulder length locks and critically eyed Ginny's mane of wavy curls._

_"Cynthie!" Pansy abruptly yelled. A second later a house elf with grey skin the color of an elephant and bulbous, dark blue eyes popped into existence between the two witches._

_"Cynthie is here, Mistress. What can Cynthie do for you?"_

_"Fetch us a bottle of champagne and some glasses - a bucket of ice as well," Pansy ordered._

_"Yes, Mistress. Cynthie will get that for you," the elf responded eagerly._

_"Actually - bring two bottles," Pansy requested before the creature could Apparate away and she nodded in response before blinking out of the room._

_"Champagne?" Ginny questioned with raised eyebrows._

_Pansy shrugged, turning to walk into her closet to change her outfit once again. "When the boys get here they'll want to drink whiskey and play obnoxious games. I'd prefer something else before then to shorten that part of my drinking night."_

_It was a good thing that she was out of sight because Ginny's eyes bulged as her stomach plummeted and she felt anxious nerves crawl across her skin like ants as she instantly worked to calm herself. Since it was early Friday evening, and with the impending weekend, she had not expected to see Draco or Blaise until Monday. The boys were supposed to be out for their ritualistic Friday night bar crawl, not coming back to Pansy and Theo's for a night in._

_Cynthie popped back into the dressing room, precariously clutching a silver ice bucket under one arm and loosely gripping two green glass bottles in the other hand. She hardly glanced at Ginny as she set the cold container and one champagne bottle down on a table. The nimble elf was on auto pilot as she prepared to uncork the first bottle but the redheaded witch had other plans in mind and quickly grabbed the unattended, second bottle._

_"Cynthie will do that, Misses Weasley," the house elf offered hastily, her enormous eyes darting to the closet door. "Mistress asked Cynthie to get the drinks."_

_"No need," Ginny countered just as hastily and ripped the metal wrapping off the bottle's neck. Cynthie squeaked nervously when the cork exploded from the glass mouth and the elf was almost shaking as alcoholic foam bubbled over. Ginny tipped the bottle back and eagerly drank down the frothy champagne, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as she held onto the glass as if her life depended on it._

_"Are you going to share that or should I open the other bottle?" Pansy questioned, snickering as she watched Ginny's cheeks pinken with embarrassment._

_She shrugged, her mind whirling to catch up as alcohol rapidly flooded her system. "I figured you told her two bottles so we would each have our own."_

_Pansy barked a laugh and crossed her arms before gliding across the room and flopping onto the chaise lounge next to Ginny. She grabbed the half opened bottle from Cynthie and pointed it away from herself as the cork popped loudly._

_"One of my favorite sounds," Pansy stated with a lazy smirk, her voice dropping slightly. She too brought the bottle to her mouth and gulped champagne. Noticing the house elf still standing there, she waved a hand dismissively at Cynthie without pausing her drinking to tell her to leave._

_A moment later it was just Pansy and a jittery Ginny left alone in the elaborate dressing room. Feeling a bit awkward and not knowing what sort of conversation to start after bingeing on champagne, she lifted the bottle again and took a swig. Her head turned and her eyes darted to the other witch only to look away when she met her curious violet gaze over the curve of green glass. With a calculating smile in place, Pansy held onto the neck of her bottle and crossed her legs, adjusting her body so that she was facing Ginny._

_"You're going to go with us to the Gala," she said as if it were already decided. "I think you will bring a certain - flavor to the night."_

_"I am?" Ginny blankly questioned, her stomach tying into knots as she anticipated what Pansy would say next._

_"Yes," she stated firmly. She pursed her lips and appeared to think for a short moment. "But the question is - who would you like to escort you - Blaise or Draco?"_

_Her mouth fell open and the champagne bottle nearly slipped from her grasp. "I - "_

_A cat-who-ate-the-canary smirk pushed Pansy's lips into a plump smile. She reached her free hand across the lounge chair and squeezed Ginny's knee. "Don't worry -" she sounded reassuringly optimistic as her violet eyes crinkled, "we'll let them decide for you."_

_Ginny gulped. There was absolutely no way she was getting out of this one._

**D/G**

Ginny was not the least bit surprised when she woke up to find herself in the same bedroom that she had fallen asleep in. Part of her wished she had managed to somehow get to the other end of the wing, just so Draco would wake up and think she had ran off somewhere, but as she rolled onto her back and into a panel of sunlight she knew she had slept like a rock the night before. Even now she still felt exhausted and she let her mouth open wide as a yawn silently passed.

Her eyes were foggy with sleep but the morning light slowly crept into her consciousness. Ginny brushed a hand across her forehead and felt a grimy layer of sweaty makeup and elemental residue. Her bones creaked as she sat up and she slowly twisted at the waist until her back cracked, easing a slight bit of the ache in her body. Pulling back the thick down comforter, she turned and threw her legs off the side of the bed and fluidly stood up. Rotating her head from side to side she cracked her neck and rolled her shoulders in small circles. Feeling loose, she impulsively decided to attempt a few of the yoga positions she normally used in the mornings to get herself stretched out.

Standing tall with her legs locked and her hands by her side, Ginny started a steady repetition of raising her arms up above her head and bringing them back down. She kept her breathing in sync with her movements and quickly worked her muscles into their 'ready' position. First, she practiced four rhythmic sun salutations. Her body flowed easily enough and she decided to kick it up a notch with some movement poses. She got through modified versions of Warrior I and Warrior II without any repercussions but the moment she attempted Warrior III, her right knee buckled and she fell to the floor with a groan and a loud thud.

Ginny sat up and extended her right leg, lightly grasping the aching joint as she clenched her jaw. The door knob turning froze her for a moment before Draco slipped through the opening with a wide grin in place. He was halfway dressed with black pants on and a silk shirt left unbuttoned, revealing a downy trail of ashy blonde hairs leading below his waistline. The fact that he was barefoot and almost shirtless eluded the handsome wizard as he stepped into the bedroom.

"I assumed you must have fallen out of bed with the loud noise that you created," he stated with a supressed chuckle. "Are you alright?"

Ginny glared, not caring that he was witnessing her in all of her fresh-out-of-bed, grungy pajama glory. "I was stretching when my knee gave out," she snapped irritably. Being grumpy in the morning was not exactly how she liked to start her day but Draco was making it difficult for her to be in a good mood just then.

He let out a somewhat contained, short laugh. His arms crossed over his chest and through the fluid material she could see the muscles coil. "Stretching? Are you planning on taking a hike around the property today?" Draco teased with one eyebrow arched and his lips parted wide in a smile.

Her glare intensified but she turned her attention to her knee as she sat up straighter and bit down on her lip as she slowly bent her leg. "I haven't been working out since -" Ginny paused, finally wincing from the pinching pain as a cover for the sadness that erupted with her errant words. Gritting her teeth she continued without looking up. "I don't want to catch a stitch in the side or pull a muscle if something happens. . . and I need to take off again."

Draco unfolded his arms and crossed the bedroom in several quick strides. He stopped just in front of her and though she could only see his large feet with perfectly shaped toenails, Ginny felt his stare on her messy head and cursed her heart for its loud hammering in her chest. Two strong hands appeared in front of her face and she hesitated a moment before placing her much smaller palms in his grasp. Long fingers wrapped around her wrists and Ginny allowed him to lift all of her weight as he pulled her to her feet. He slipped his left arm around her waist and with her holding onto his neck, Draco picked her up and sat them both down on the edge of the unmade bed.

She removed her arms from his embrace and they sat there, side by side, without saying anything for a very long minute.

"Stand up," Draco ordered tonelessly, his gaze shifting to wait for her to acknowledge his statement. Ginny flinched ever so slightly and he prodded further. "I want to make sure you can put weight on your leg. Stand up."

Tentatively Ginny planted both feet firmly on the carpeted floor and tensed her muscles.

"Go on," he prodded encouragingly. "I'm right here."

His words gave her a small piece of reassurance and Ginny awkwardly leaned forward, her body crouched to move as she hesitated. Sucking in a thick breath, she rushed her momentum forward and shakily stood. She kept most of her weight on her left leg and Draco made a disapproving sound behind closed lips. Rolling her eyes and gritting her teeth, she evened out her weight distribution and stood tall. She jumped slightly when she felt his warm fingers brush the small of her back but she responsively leaned into his touch and allowed the heat of his hand on her back to become a comfort rather than the distraction her mind was telling her it was.

Though it was only the very tips of his fingers Ginny felt the searing touch through the thin material of the old Holyhead Harpies shirt she wore to bed. It was the only warmth she could sense in the otherwise chilly bedroom and suddenly she broke out in goose bumps as she only slightly suppressed a shiver. Thinking it was a spasm of pain Draco placed the entirety of his palm against her back and leaned in while looking down at her knee.

"You alright? Do you need to sit down?" He almost sounded worried, as if a pulled muscle or fleeting knee pain was something to fret over.

Ginny was hyper aware of her rock hard nipples pressing against the fraying t-shirt and Draco's close proximity to said braless breasts. He couldn't be so focused on the already-gone pain that he hadn't noticed her reaction to such a simple gesture but when he swiveled his gaze up to her waiting stare, he did not pause to ogle her silent arousal.

"Just a bit chilled," Ginny muttered feebly and crossed her arms over her chest for emphasis.

"Oh. And your leg?"

She dared to show him that she was fine and shifted her weight to her left leg. With her body balanced, without the added aide of her arms outstretched, she lifted her right leg and smoothly bent her knee. "Better than before," Ginny said blandly to hide the frenzied dance her heart was doing against her ribcage.

Draco removed his hand from her back and she returned her foot to the ground, though still not placing equal pressure on that side. She stood with her back to him while he awkwardly sat next to her, their bodies stiff with uncertainty. Clearing his throat, Draco ran his hands down his thighs and soundlessly stood up. He stared at her for a moment longer, his intent gaze boring into her, before easing around Ginny and silently approaching the wide fireplace on the other side of the room. Wandlessly, he waved a hand at the empty grate and a fire sprang to life.

"Take a shower," he stated monotonely and walked towards the door, his bare feet making no sound as he padded across the thick carpet. "I'll meet you in the dining room for breakfast at half ten," Draco told her and without a glance back, he opened the door and slipped out of her bedroom.

As tempting as it was to analyze every word and action that had just happened, Ginny shut off her zooming thoughts and focused on her body, concentrating on every muscle that felt sore and every joint that twinged from the overdue yoga. Overall, she felt fine. Her falling to the ground and causing the commotion with Draco seemed embarrassing now but she pushed the brief flushing of her cheeks away and slowly took a step forward. Just because she could stand on her leg did not mean she could walk.

Moving her weight onto her right leg as she took another step, Ginny braced herself for a flare up of pain from the old injury. When nothing came she sighed with relief and tentatively kept walking. She grabbed the bed post for support as she passed and smiled tiredly when her knee did not seize up again.

The luxurious bathroom, which looked more like all of the amenities of a spa crammed into a large room, was fully equipped for whatever bathing intentions she had and Ginny glanced wistfully at the spacious tub craved into the floor as she moved towards the glass encased shower. With the amount of dirt and grime on her body she did not have nearly the amount of time she would like for a lazy, bubbly bath. Still, the shower stall was opulent in its own right. As she pulled open the glass door, she raised an eyebrow at the gold handles and shower heads. All three spouts were detatchable and thin coils of tubing hung down in gleaming loops against the black marble walls.

Without stepping into the tiled stall, Ginny flicked her hand and turned on the middle shower head. She wandlessly adjusted the water temperature and paused when she noticed a dial just off to the side of the far nozzle. Curious, she turned a knob in the air in animation of spinning the real dial. Nothing happened for a long second and then something kicked on as slow dribbles of steam appeared through the cracks in the walls. A shower that doubles as a steam chamber - very clever indeed. Ginny nodded her head appreciatively and stepped backwards to shut the glass door, allowing the steam to build up as she undressed.

The foggy shower was exactly what she needed to clear her head. Though she did not have any time to linger, she stood under the very hot spray of water and let the stress melt away. Her legs protested the solidary position after several minutes but it didn't matter. As she massaged shampoo into her hair, her arms felt heavy and her movements sluggish. The bar of soap fell from her grasp twice and both times she stared at the offending object on the tile as if it had jumped from her hand on purpose. When the last remnants of suds were gone from her body, Ginny stared longing at the temperature dial, turned all the way to the left, and almost regretfully rotated it off.

Outside the ultra steamy confines of the glass shower, she shivered in the seemingly frigid air and thanked Merlin that the house elves placed heating charms on the towels. Wrapping an extra large swath of terry cloth around her goose bump covered flesh, Ginny scooped up her dirty pajamas and hurried out of the bathroom. The enormously empty closet was no warmer but she eagerly grabbed a clean set of clothes and tossed the towel to the floor. Though the bra and underwear alone removed some of the chill, she hastily shoved one leg, then the other, into a pair of black jeans and quickly shimmied into a tight camisole and thick, cream cashmere sweater. Two mismatched socks warmed her curling toes and once she pulled a pair of black riding boots on, she felt significantly more ready for the day than she had minutes before in the steamy shower.

Ginny waggled her fingers at the mass of damp hair lying about her shoulders and the tangled clumps became copper waves in an instant. She snatched the pair of half carat diamond studs and idly fastened them on her ears as she walked back into the bedroom. The elves snuck in and cleaned the room while she showered, hanging her coat with her other robes and neatly arranging her dirty boots next to the door. Ginny no longer felt the slight invasion of privacy as she had when she first arrived at Hogwarts, now admiring the small creatures for their hard work and determination, though not nearly as fanatically as Hermione.

Retrieving her wand from the nightstand, she stowed it down the leg of her right boot and absently patted down her pockets to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything. Satisfied that she had everything, though her pocket felt empty without her sleek cell phone, Ginny stole a glance at the clock on the mantle as she moved towards the doorway. She jumped when she saw that she was already five minutes late and nearly broke into a run as she threw open the door and sprinted down the hallway.

The large, oak double doors were propped open and bars of shining sunlight poured into the main hallway, alerting her that Draco was well aware of her tardiness. As she got closer, Ginny slowed her steps and forced her breathing to a normal rate, nervously running her hands down the length of her torso to brush away nonexistent lint. Punctuality had never been her strongest characteristic and instances like this were what caused her to unnecessarily, though only internally, panic. Adapting her most devil-may-care attitude, she casually rounded the corner of the doors and walked into the dining room.

Draco was sitting at his usual seat at the head of the long table and a generous spread of breakfast foods were laid out before him. His plate was mostly full, bits of eggs and part of gravy covered biscuit still remaining, yet he seemed completely absorbed by the Daily Prophet even as she paced across the shiny marble tile. Ginny watched for any signs that he had noticed her entrance and her brows furrowed when he remained mesmerized by the newspaper, his eyes locked on the parchment and unseeing of her approach. Though it did not appear that he had eaten much, a majority of the half dozen trays were missing a large portion of their contents.

"I hope you saved me some food," Ginny lightly said as she aggressively yanked on the seat to his right. Draco did not look up from the Prophet and she loudly scooted her chair across the floor as she none too discretely sat down. Glancing over the spread to find something to comment on, she brightly said, "If you took the last of the honey biscuits, I'm going to make sure the elves wait until we're both here to bring out the food next time."

Her voice finally registered and Draco sharply jerked his head up, his slate eyes widened slightly with what she knew was veiled shock.

"You might want to see this," he stated tightly after a long moment of intently staring at her waning smile.

"Wh-what is it?" Ginny easily questioned, distracting her runaway thoughts by reaching for a pair of tongs off the muffin plate. Draco being this serious this early in the day did not usually bode well for anyone.

He turned the front page around and held it up for her to see, the bold print and large moving photograph pausing her arm halfway across the table as she zeroed in on the words. Her body froze while the bottom of her gut fell away, rendering Ginny motionless and causing everything to spin around her.

**Zabini Body Gone! Crypt Found Empty!**

She watched the looped picture and felt her head spinning. The marble mausoleum remained steady in the image while the magical camera slowly panned around its immediate perimeter. Most notable was the largest detail that the article failed to mention - the fact that one pair of footprints went into the crypt while two sets of tracks led away.

Ginny felt the world tilt on its axis and when she dared to look up, the same uneasy expression covered Draco's face. Only - this time there was a trace of hope in his gaze. A hint of optimism that fed the fire growing within the rapidity of her thoughts.

Was Blaise still alive?

**.**

**A/N: **Dun dun duuuunnnn. Big hole left open at the end of this one - I know. But this is the beginning of the action and soon enough we will start seeing some familiar faces pop back up as the pot gets stirred a little bit more. And don't worry - that chunk of memory will be completed within the next couple of chapters and you will see its significance soon enough.

Also, I realize this story is probably getting confusing to some readers. The bouncing around will begin to slow down now and the chapters will become progressive instead of chopped up with different characters. Soon the only blocked section will be past memories that will relate to the current chapter. Thank you for your patience and unending ability to put all of my confusing pieces together. Your continued support means the world to me - keep it up and I'll keep this story as interesting as possible.


End file.
